#found a job I would be good at!! but I cannot accurately answer yes to 'can you frequently lift and slide 70lbs at a time'

[karmaphone]

anyways I think if your job listing is something like 'forklift operator' 'receptionist' anything that isn't literally physical labor it should be illegal to put 'ability to lift and move x amount of pounds frequently per shift' cuz like. homie disabled people exist and need to work too

[uboat53]

Science time? How about science and government? Government scientists, that is. Time for a SHORT RANT (TM).

A few weeks ago, a train derailed in East Palestine, Ohio, releasing toxic chemicals. Officials burned off the chemicals because they were afraid that, if they didn't, the train would simply explode and scatter those chemicals off in a far less controlled manner. So this raises the question:

If you're a government scientist, probably at the EPA, what should you tell the residents of the nearby town?

Well, in mid-February, the EPA told residents that it was safe to return to their homes. Once there, residents described symptoms ranging from rashes to headaches to nausea. In early March, scientists found high levels of hazardous chemicals in the air around the town.

Does this mean the EPA scientists, government scientists, got it wrong? Did they give inaccurate information to the public?

Well, the best answer I was able to find came in an NPR interview with Peter DeCarlo, a professor of Environmental Health and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University.

He pointed out in the interview on February 16th, after the EPA had said it was safe, that they hadn't done proper measurement. Instead of sampling the air for the specific chemicals at issue and determining what the concentration was, they'd used handheld devices that don't measure any chemicals specifically and don't have the sensitivity to measure concentrations accurately.

In addition, when the EPA had done proper sampling, where air is collected and then taken to a lab where chemical concentrations can be measured, it hadn't done it at the accident site or downwind from the derailment. In other words, there was no way the EPA could have known, from the data they had, whether or not it was safe for residents to return.

In other words, based on the information we have, I'd say the answers to my questions, in reverse order are "no", "yes", and "we cannot say whether it is safe to return".

So why did EPA/government scientists say it was safe? Well, I think it's time to talk about uncertainty. Specifically, how most people, especially in politics these days, seem to be unable to admit it.

You see, in science, when something isn't certain, we're supposed to say so. "I don't know" is an accurate and perfectly acceptable answer. But if you're in government, "I don't know" is a good way to get ignored and, if you say it too often, completely sidelined. In fact, it's the perfect way to get your budget cut. That's likely why, instead of honestly answering "I don't have enough data to say" when asked if it was safe to return to East Palestine, the EPA told residents it was safe based purely on the fact that they didn't have enough data to say it was unsafe.

"How do we improve that?" you may ask. Well that's tough.

There's a huge incentive in the direction of saying things are safe. Unsafe places are bad for business and cost money. More importantly, they also drive negative news cycles which are bad for the politicians that government scientists work for.

Real change would require changing politician's mindsets with regard to science and, to do that, you have to change how they're rewarded and punished. The fact is that probably not a single politician is going to lose their job or even lose a significant amount of votes because of what happened in East Palestine.

Voters aren't paying close enough attention to know that the Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works and the House Committee on Energy and Commerce are the ones with oversight over the EPA or that Michael S. Regan is the EPA Administrator and, more importantly, their news sources aren't providing them with this information. They have no idea who is responsible, it's just nameless, faceless government bureaucrats to them, so how are they supposed to hold anyone responsible for a major screw-up like this?

So I'll be honest, I don't see it getting better anytime soon. In the future, if you're deciding whether something is safe or not, you're probably best off trying to find the opinion of an independent scientist, preferably a university professor with no financial ties to the issue at hand, than blindly trusting government scientists.

If you're interested, here are some resources if you're interested in learning more about what I've described above:

I wish I had better news on this front but I don't. If you have any thoughts on the matter I'd love to hear them, particularly if they're more optimistic than mine.

[dragonprincelovr]

Waking Up to You [ Part 3 ] • Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: Your coworker questions Steven’s intentions. Steven calls you and sets up a not-date.

Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader

Warning(s): None. It’s got no smut which is boring. Does mention sex.

Series: [ blue means smut e.g. penis in vagina sex, fingering, oral sex, hand jobs etc. ] Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5

“What’s got you distracted?”

Your head snapped towards your coworker and friend, Irene, who just walked into the break room. You were on your first break of the day and already you had spilt two cups of coffee and gotten an order mixed up. Steven was proving to be a problem.

“Nothing,” you answered shaking your head, as the image of Steven licking your pussy flashed into your mind.

”Bullshit!” she insisted, hand swatting your shoulder in a joking manner before walking towards the small fridge in the corner of the room. “What’s with the grin?”

Your hand moved towards your face, almost like you needed physical proof that you were grinning (which you were). “I didn’t even notice,” you murmured to yourself, forgetting that you had someone watching you very intently.

”Okay,” Irene said, sitting down across from you on the cruddy little chair that was capable of murdering a person’s back. “Tell me what’s going on or I’ll get Meredith.”

”No!” you told her, pouting dramatically which made her laugh. “Fine, I... met someone last night.”

Irene rolled her eyes, taking a bite out of her cheese and ham sandwich. “And? Was he good?”

You smiled, bringing your glass of water to your lips to hide it. Nodding your head with the tiniest movements, you really didn’t want Irene spreading this information like wildfire. “Um, I would say, in my opinion, that yes, yes he was good.”

Irene stared at your for a few seconds, eyes squinting at you almost as if she were interrogating you. She pointed at you with her sandwich, bits of cheese and ham falling out but she paid it no mind. “How many times?”

”What? Why?” you demanded, eyes looking over at the closed door that lead to the kitchen. You both needed to keep it down or HR would be giving you a stern talking to once again.

“Because,” she stated, moving her shoulders as if to say ‘why not?’, “the amount of times you cum during sex, shows how he treats his lady friends.”

You hummed, shaking your head while looking at her in thought. “I don’t think that’s accurate.”

”Sure it is!”

”I love you Irene, I really do,” you told her, making her smile, “but that is dumb as fuck.”

”What?” she exclaimed, looking like you killed her dog. “It’s true.”

”Uh, untrue. Remember Dylan? He once made me cum five times and he was a complete and utter arsehole.” You grimaced at the thought of your past and who you were with, some of them you really regretted while others were a pretty great experience. You hoped that Steven was going to be a good experience and you had a hunch he would be.

”Oh, right... Dylan,” Irene drawled out his name, eyes staring at the wall behind you as she drifted into her own thoughts. “You still have his number, right?”

”Irene!” you gasped, laughing at her words.

”It’s been a while for me! Okay, I’m sorry!”

You laughed even harder, shaking your head at the desperation of your friend but also at her apology. You knew she’d never get with someone if they did you wrong, but it was still funny. “Trust me, he wasn’t very skilled. He just repeated the same thing over and over, which sounds fun to begin with but gets very boring, very quickly.”

Irene made a face, finally giving up on eating her sandwich and accepting that you two were going to be gossiping about your new found friend. “Okay, but in all seriousness, what was good about this man last night?”

You pursed your lips in thought, thinking back to not only last night but this morning as well. “Well, we had sex last night and he was really good. Super dominant, which was nice especially when I’m drunk ‘cause I cannot for the life of me take the lead.”

”Sounds good,” Irene agreed, nodding her head.

“However, right afterwards he tells me to stay but that he’ll most likely forget who I am.”

”That’s a bit odd...”

“To which part?”

”Both. But, the staying is weirder. Not many people want their one night stand to turn into a morning call,” she explained to you, making you nod in agreement.

This was not your first one night stand, you haven’t had hundreds but you’ve had more than a few in your time. So, to say you knew one night stand courtesy would be an understatement. You thought Steven asking you to stay was odd and weird, but thought maybe it was a London thing and every Londoner just let their roll in the hay stay for the night. But, Irene confirmed your thoughts. She’d lived here all her life and she’d also been to bars and night clubs, so she had experience under her belt as well.

“Right. He also tells me I can have breakfast or shower and that he might be gone by the time I wake up, but maybe not... super odd, so I think ‘Okay, whatever I’m exhausted from you so I’ll just sleep and have a shower’ and I won’t lie when I woke up to find him still in bed I was excited because... well, he was terrific in bed.”

”Haha, you wanted to sleep with him again.”

You nodded, feeling a bit shameful and pathetic that you couldn’t even sleep with him without wanting to do it again. You’ve been able to do so in the past, so you weren’t too sure as to why Steven made you so curious. “Yeah, so I get in the shower after I wake up and I’m kinda keen to have sex again.”

”What kind of soaps does he use?”

”What?” you demanded, gesturing with your hands in question.

”Is he working with 2-in-1 or bars of soap or maybe no soap.”

”Liquid body wash and proper shampoo and conditioner. Why are you asking this?”

”I’m just against people who use bars of soap and 2-in-1.”

You made a face, but completely understood where she was coming from. “Trust me, if you saw how clear his skin is and how great his hair is, you wouldn’t be asking me that.”

”Ohh,” Irene drawled out, sitting up straighter. “You got yourself a pretty boy?”

Again, you made a face but this time it was because you were being indecisive. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

”You don’t know how to explain whether this man is a pretty boy? I’m confused...”

Yeah, you were confused too.

”Last night, he had this extreme hotness about him that screamed ‘I’m gonna fuck you until you cry and then cuddle you afterwards’,” you paused for a moment, thinking about what you were going to say next. “And this morning he’s still extremely hot but in a way that says ‘You’re gonna fuck me until I cry and then we’ll have a hot bath together’, does that make sense?”

“I’m gonna be honest honey,” Irene explained to you, a look on her face that made you nervous. “It doesn’t. Also I can’t tell if what you’re saying is a good thing or a bad thing.”

“It’s definitely a good thing,” you promised her, smiling at your words and memories of Steven from last night and this morning. “He made me cum three times last night, all while drunk. And then this morning, after I gave him a,”—you ducked your head closer to her as if you were telling her a secret—“blow job, he said he wanted to make it up to me and he ate me the fuck out.”

Irene’s eyes widened, “God fucking dammit, and from a one nightstand as well! Was it good?”

You nodded, biting your lip and feeling your face go red. “Amazing. Although, to be honest I didn’t have that much faith that he knew what he was doing to begin with.”

”Why?”

”Well, I just kinda... knew. Like last night, he was totally confident in himself and everything and then this morning he couldn’t even look at my body for the first half an hour,” you explained to her, feeling bad that you were gossiping about Steven. Maybe you should’ve stopped, but you knew that Irene, despite being a gossiping hoe, would never spread your personal life around. “I kinda chalked up his confidence in his abilities to alcohol ‘cause he kinda forgot all his memory from last night and he was speaking in a different accent.”

“Huh.”

”What? What is it?”

”Nothing,” Irene said, waving you off with a hand before sighing. “It’s just, that’s kind of a bad sign, don’t you think? Like, did he seem shocked that he forgot about you?”

You thought about it for a moment, “No, I don’t think so. He was more shocked about me being in his shower than anything. In fact, he kept apologising that he had forgotten but he didn’t seem shocked.”

“You said he warned you that he might forgot, so maybe—and I really hate saying this—it’s a regular occurrence.”

“What?” you asked, eyes squinting at her in thought. “Your saying he gets blackout drunk, fucks a girl and then forgets about them in the morning, and that’s just a regular Tuesday night for him?”

”No!” Irene exclaimed, feeling bad for what she said. “Maybe! I don’t—I don’t know. It’s just, there are some really messed up people, Y/N. And I just don’t want you getting hurt. This guy might seem inexperienced or nervous or whatever, but just be careful. Please.”

You nodded your head slowly, knowing that she was in her own rights to be suspicious. It made you feel crap, but this was supposed to be just a one night stand, so you weren’t allowed to be hurt, especially when it was just about sex. Still, you kind of really liked Steven—maybe a bit too much for your own good.

***

Steven’s day was going just as bad as usual. There was a new shipment of (inaccurate) stuffed toys, which he brought up with Donna, who immediately shot him down. Then, he tried explaining to a school student how mummy’s were prepared and that child ended up crying which got him into trouble again. When it was time for lunch, he found out the fridge was no longer working in the staff room so all of his lunch was ruined and he had to eat the museum’s overpriced vegan burger. When he got back to work, some kid had been running around the shop and knocked over a few pots, so Steven had to clean that up while manning the register by himself.

The only thing that was getting him through the day without crying was honestly, and pathetically, you. Steven couldn’t stop thinking about you, even with Donna screaming in his ear and threatening to fire him, he still thought about you. At first it was just about how you spoke to him, and basically told him most of his life in a matter of moments. He thought about how you remembered that he was a vegan, when even his own coworkers who he’s worked with for years now, could hardly remember (save Donna, who made fun of him for it). But, then his thoughts about you got more... inappropriate.

Every time they got inappropriate, Steven would push those thoughts away and think about the history of slaves in Egypt. He just, he hated sexualising you but he had seen you naked and he had eaten you out. On his second break, he decided that he would call you. After all his turmoil of his thoughts about you—sexual and non sexual—he wanted to see you again, to try to actually take you out on a date. A proper one, with flowers and chocolates and all and at the end of the night, he would give you a kiss and that’d be all, because he wanted to be that kind and gentleman.

Pulling out his phone, he searched your number in his contacts and found you there. This morning, when you were about to leave, you told him your number just in case “he wanted to see you again” which he immediately put into his phone. Clicking on your contact, he debated whether calling or texting would be better. Texting seemed so impersonal. But he was god awful at phone calls and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to even hear your voice without getting a hard o—he took a deep breath and forced himself to stop that image in his head. Texting it was.

When he clicked on the ‘message’ icon, it felt like his thumb had a mind of its own and just decided to click on ‘call’ instead. “No, no, no, no, no...” he hissed under his breath, trying to tap hang up but it wasn’t working. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

”Hello?” It was your voice. Smooth but slightly smoky, in a sexy way. “Hello? Who is this?”

Say something, Steven.

Say anything.

Just tell her something!

She’s going to hang up!

His own voice was screaming at him inside his head and he clenched his fist around his phone before bringing it up to his face. “It’s Steven...” he answered, shakily, “with a v.”

He smacked himself in the face with his other hand.

He heard you laugh, “Hi, Steven. With a v.”

”Uh, hiya.”

You laughed again, then he heard you whisper something along the lines of “Hold on,” and then footsteps. “Sorry, I was just with a friend and she can be a real arse when I’m on the phone.”

”Oh, no, it’s fine,” Steven told you, “I’m glad I don’t have friends that can annoy me.” There was silence on the line and he screamed silently at himself, asking “Why?” He honestly thought he was a real knob at times. “I have friends,” he attempted, wishing he could stop.

You chuckled again, “What’s up, Steven?”

Steven bit his lip, wishing he rehearsed this or just texted you like he wanted. “I had a really good time with you and I hope you did too.”

He could basically hear your smirk, “Yeah, Steven, I definitely had a good time with you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

He swallowed, feeling his slacks tighten a little but chose to ignore it. It was fine, he was fine. “I did, I really, really did enjoy myself.”

”Yeah?” You were speaking softly, your voice dropping. Steven’s eyes widened at the sound of it. “What did you enjoy the most?”

He felt his breathing seize up, and with his free hand he grabbed at his leg tightly. “All of it,” he managed to stutter out, “I enjoyed every single moment.”

”Yeah, but if you got to repeat one moment, what would you want repeated?”

Steven swallowed again, his mouth going dry as images started flashing into his head. Your naked body in the shower. You sucking his neck. You on your knees, pressing kisses on his thighs. His dick inside your wet, tight mouth. Him on knees, licking at your soaking cunt. His fingers slipping in and out of your tight hole. You arousal dripping down his arm and face.

“Steven?”

Your voice brought him out of whatever state he was in, his member getting constricted painfully against his slacks. “Yeah,” he breathed out, a whimper coming out of him.

”Are you okay? Did I-did I make you uncomfortable?”

”No, no,” he murmured, thinking about how awful this situation was for the both of you. You, who had no idea who hard he was right and probably thinking he was in pain (he was, but in a pleasurable way) and Steven, who was just standing in a hallway that anyone could walk through any moment with the biggest hard on he’s ever had. “I just, I just liked that a little too much.”

”Oh,” you said lowly, before your voice raised in slight excitement, “Oh!”

”Yeah.”

“Well, I know your at work so I’ll stop... for now.” You laughed at the end of that sentence. “But, what did you need, or want?”

”Um, well, I was wondering if you wanted to...” he trailed off, unsure of what to say or whether this was a good idea or not. “If you wanted to come over after work, if your not busy. I just, I just want to get to know you better.”

”Really?” you asked, shock evident in your voice. That made Steven confused, how could a beautiful, young woman like yourself be shocked by getting asked out. Although, it wasn’t really since he didn’t ask you out on a date. God, he wished he did but he’s a right twat.

“Yes, of course!” he exclaimed. “I really like you, not because of the things you make me feel, physically. Although, you’re amazing, incredible in fact, at that and I would love to do that again. Not that I’m pressuring you, I would never pressure, in fact I’d never done anything like that before. Sexually, I mean and also I guess mentally, although I have, of course, thought about those things but not much and I stop myself from doing that. Not that there’s anything wrong with me, I mean I kinda sound like it now, huh, kinda funny if you—“

“Steven,” you interrupt him, making him stop.

”Yeah?”

”Nothing, I just thought I’d help you out by stopping you.”

”Yeah, I’m sorry. Thank you for that.”

”No problem,” you laughed, “look I have to go, but I’ll see you at seven tonight?”

”Seven,” he repeated, nodding his head. “Seven is good. Seven is amazing.”

You let our a slight chuckle, “Bye, Steven. See you at seven.”

“Later gators.”

He hung up immediately, sighing in frustration. He held his face in his hands, mumbling angrily at himself. “You’re a bloody moron. A moron, Steven.” He really was a moron. A moron with an erection. At least he was a moron, with an erection, with a sort of date with a girl he likes. He just hoped he didn’t screw it up and acted like a gentleman.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

The Intern (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki takes an interest in the latest of a long line of Stark’s interns.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Can be read as platonic, if preferred)

Word Count: 2,809

Disclaimers/Warnings: None. Just a bit of fluff.

A/N: This wound up turning into something entirely different from the original concept. Just kinda went with what felt right. Also trying desperately to remember working with an Arduino board to make this at least semi-accurate.

Masterlist

Loki traipsed aimlessly through the Tower, his overly-friendly insomnia having kept him up past four in the morning again. Nothing seemed to help him sleep and he constantly grew bored laying around in his room waiting for exhaustion to overtake him. Wandering about seemed as good as anything. Sometimes he would come across something interesting. It seems now would be that time.

He rounded the corner and found himself gazing through the wall-length windows of Tony Stark’s lab. The armor-less Iron Man was passed out in a chair, head haphazardly lolling on a table. Usually, he was still working and would be until at least seven a.m. before Pepper would literally drag him to bed.

Movement at the other end of the room caught his eye. There you were, pulling a blanket out of the cupboard. You crossed the lab and placed the well-used cloth over Stark’s shoulders before returning to your work. Sliding your safety glasses on, you put all your focus into soldering some wires to a board.

What in the nine realms were you doing here at this hour? The sun hadn’t even reached the horizon yet. None of his previous interns ever started their days before nine. Albeit, they had barely lasted a week while you broke a record at just over a month, but the point still stood. Why were you here?

“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper, Loki, or are you going to come in and hang out?” you called out, not even bothering to tear your eyes away from the wiring.

Well, this excursion could prove to be interesting. Loki slithered through the doorway to stand opposite of you at your table.

“So what are you doing up this early?” you murmured. If it weren’t for you glancing up at him, someone may have thought it was more of a question for yourself.

Loki huffed a laugh. “I could ask you the same question.”

That elicited a quirky smile from you. “Woke up way before my alarm and couldn’t fall back asleep. Figured I’d start my day early.” You gestured toward Stark with the soldering iron. “This one over here is pretty lenient on the hours.”

“I would hope so,” Loki chuckled, “considering his own schedule.”

“A schedule that consists of planned energy drink breaks. Definitely one of the more interesting employers out there.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily on his forearms propped on the table.

You set down the soldering iron in its stand and shut if off. “So I answered your question. How about you?”

“I simply could not sleep,” he nonchalantly replied.

“Hmm...” you hummed. “Lemme guess. A member of Insomniacs Anonymous?”

His chuckle reverberated through the room. This was probably one of the reasons Stark kept you around. You certainly had a particular snarky confident air about you.

Yet the corners of your mouth suddenly hung low and your brow scrunched together. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?” He was confused at your change in demeanor.

“It’s not as simple as you couldn’t sleep. There’s more to it.”

Loki’s lips parted in astonishment. Here you were in your first true encounter with him and you read him like an open book. What had you been told?

“I won’t make you say anything.” You held your hands up in a placating manner. “You probably don’t want to, and that’s okay. However.” You grabbed the notepad next to you and scribbled something on it, ripping off the paper and sliding it towards him. “If you’re ever bored and I’m not here, you can text me. I’ll probably answer.”

He reluctantly took the note that had your number written on it. “I cannot say I am very adept with these cellular devices.”

“Pretty sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” you grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “But seriously, no pressure. The offer is always out there.”

“Wha?!” Stark snorted himself awake, his eyes shooting around wildly. “Rudolf? What’re you doing here?” He eyed Loki suspiciously. “You’re not going to scare away my intern, are you? That’s my job.”

You laughed, keeping Loki from spitting a venomous retort. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to try a lot harder if that’s what you’re going for, Stark.”

“Obviously. You haven’t run off yet. I’m surprised.” He took the blanket that was wrapped around him and began folding it. “Pleasantly surprised.”

“Sure, sure!” You waved him off.

Stark looked at his watch and swiped a hand through his purposely messy bed head. “It’s that time already. I better get breakfast before Pepper finds me... Alright!” He clapped. “Both of you, let’s go! Time for grub!”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up across his forehead. Was Stark actually having him join the two of you for breakfast?

“Yes, you too, Reindeer Games! One, I don’t want you in the lab alone.” That earned him Loki’s scowl. “Two, you seem to be behaving, so why not have you eat with us.”

You nudged Stark’s arm while shooting Loki an inconspicuous wink. “Awww, look at you! Already getting into Dad Mode and little Morgan hasn’t even entered the world yet.”

He nudged you back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now come on. I’m starving!”

You continued to tease him as you followed him out of the lab with Loki close behind.

Loki lay in bed a few nights later, lost in thought. He could not get you out of his head. You had spoken with him like you would anyone else, deflected and stood up for him despite hardly knowing him. In the few years since he had been thrown to Midgard as punishment, Thor was the only one to show him a sliver of kindness, but even he held some hesitation. You did not. Your earlier interaction was genuine. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

In his perpetual deliberation, he had avoided the lab since that morning. Not that he didn’t like you. It was the uncertainty that kept him away, but that wouldn’t last much longer.

His phone settled lax in his hand, your name illuminating the screen. You had been right about him being able to learn how to text. Now it was a matter of completing the action. Tossing the phone to his other hand, he glared at the bright screen. His message had already been written. All he had to do was select “Send”. The clock at the top of the screen read two a.m. Surely, you would be asleep... But what if you weren’t?

With a huff, he pinched his eyes shut and hit the button, the swooshing sound seemingly echoing off the walls. The following silence was deafening. Luckily for him, the reply swoosh fell inline shortly after.

You: Hey, Loki. Can’t sleep?

Loki: How did you know who this was without me saying?

You: I can’t think of anyone else who would text me at this hour. ;)

Loki: I apologize if I woke you.

You: Nah. Already up. Trouble staying asleep. So what’re you up to?

Loki: Texting you.

You: Other than that, Mischief

Loki: Thinking.

You: Yeah? About what?

Loki: Possibly meandering through the Tower, again.

You: Liar ;)

Loki: Pardon?

You: You were obviously thinking about me.

Loki: What makes you say that?

You: You had to be. At least in the context that it would be better to text me than exploring.

Loki: Fair enough. Now, how do you know I am not planning to choose both?

You: You got me there.

—

Loki met you at the lab later that morning. The familiar sight of Stark was passed out, snuggling his face to a countertop, greeted you both.

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh as you passed through the doorway. “Can’t really reprimand him when my sleep schedule is just as bad.”

Loki’s lips curled into a light smirk but didn’t speak a word lest Stark awaken and force him to leave. Despite your two hour texting session, he had been looking forward to joining you here.

“Thanks for meeting me here, by the way,” you called out to him as still stood just at the edge of the lab. “A little company while working is kind of nice. Gets too quiet when Stark finally shuts down.”

Taking a seat across from you, Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Would that not be considered a blessing?”

You stifled a chuckle as you flipped on the soldering iron and pulled out what roughly looked like a vambrace. The board you had been working on previously was molded to the shape. “If that happened by the end of my workday, yes. This early in the morning? Not so much. It’s boring if not a little eerie.”

“I see... So I am only here for your entertainment,” he feigned offense.

You gasped dramatically, “Me? Never!”

Laughing with you, Loki made himself a bit more comfortable as he watched you work. At the moment, you were adding tiny capacitors and securing them into place.

“If I may, what are you trying to accomplish?”

“Well,” you started, glancing up at him. “It’s a new piece of armor. Other than that, I technically shouldn’t say much else.”

“Right... Classified information?”

There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you looked at him again. “It is a secret, but nothing quite as official as that.”

Loki leaned across the tabletop, supporting his chin in his hand. “So there is no harm in you revealing your project,” he tested.

“Harm? No. However, there will be disappointment on my end if you figure it out.”

“I accept this challenge,” he grinned playfully.

You smirked back,“As you wish, Mischief. I won’t make this easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Darling.”

The next several weeks chaotically blurred together. At first, you allowed Loki to observe your project as you worked on it. Once the vambrace began to take on a more unique form, you were hiding it in the mornings, opting to take on a different assignment when he was in the room. The design was strikingly Asgardian, leading him to believe the new armor was for Thor. He just needed to figure out what it did. He spoke with his brother on multiple occasions but was unable to glean anything from him. Either he had no clue or suddenly learned to lie well enough to fool Loki, the latter highly doubtful.

Apart from politely harassing you via text, Loki took to locating your hiding spots, something that proved difficult when the lab was almost always occupied by you, Stark or Banner at varying times. Stark was helping you keep this little secret, a sparkle in his eyes whenever he shooed Loki from the room when he was caught investigating. Even Banner was in on it, albeit reluctantly.

Then there was that Doctor Strange who was showing up every few days, joining you all in the lab much to Loki’s chagrin. By that point, Stark had banned him from the entire floor. The project must have been coming to a close if you all were trying to cover it up so desperately. But why Strange? Was he imbuing the vambrace with magic to protect Thor better? (Not that he really needed it.) His curiosity was certainly getting the better of him, going so far as to shape-shift as one of you three when Strange wasn’t around to get into the room. Somehow, Friday always knew and alerted the lab’s occupants who would send him back to the elevator.

It was early one morning as he was perusing the contents of the shared kitchen that you initiated contact with him. He was surprised since he had been the one to text you first lately to see if you would spill your secret.

You: Hey. Can you stop by the lab?

Loki: Oh? I thought I was banned.

You: Lifted as of a few minutes ago. So?

Loki: I suppose I might be able to grace you with my presence.

You: So kind of you, my King ;)

His heart skipped a beat at you calling him “your King”. You only used it in a teasing fashion when he was acting high and mighty. Even then, it still flustered him.

Loki made his way to the elevator, deeming it a bit devious to take the long way to the lab. You had made him wait all this time. It was your turn.

The doors reopened on the lab floor, revealing that his ploy to annoy had worked. You were leaned against the wall next to the elevator, waiting for his arrival.

“Finally! Come on!”

You audaciously grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the room with an impatient grin. Stopping him near your normal workstation, you demanded he close his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he responded incredulously, ripping his arm from your grasp.

“Please, Loki...” Your pleading eyes grew larger as you pouted at him.

Stark groaned, “Just do it, Reindeer Games, or I’ll cover them for you.”

Loki’s lips reared into a snarl as he glared at the billionaire before relenting and clenching his eyelids shut. Norns, how he hated those nicknames.

“Okay!” Excitement laced your voice. “Would you hold up your dominant hand?”

“Making more demands, Darling?”

“I did ask nicely this time.”

“That you did,” he chuckled a complied, holding out a hand.

“Perfect!”

He felt a metallic weight placed on his forearm before it was clasped together with a comfortable tightness.

“Okay. You can look now!”

The sight of the vambrace on his arm left Loki’s mouth agape. The main black of the piece was lined with gold Asgardian knot designs with runes placed in a handful of the empty spaces. Near his wrist, an artificial emerald was embedded in the armor. If he had to be completely honest, the aesthetics could rival much of the armor back home.

“Well, Kid. It looks like you rendered him speechless.” Stark nudged your arm.

Loki’s gaze shot up to the two of you. Stark was leaning against the workstation while you had hoisted yourself to sit atop it, nothing but grins on either of your faces.

“What is this-”

You cut him off, “It’s for you. We noticed after some of your missions where you had to use your seiðr more than usual, you’d end up exhausted before getting back to the Quinjet. The new armor should help with that. It’s supposed to amplify your magic without draining you.”

Stark shoved you lightheartedly, again. “The kid noticed. Told ‘em if they could come up with something that could work, I’d give whatever resources needed for the project.”

“So what do you think? I mean we still need to undergo more testing and calibrations before you can use it in the field, but-”

“You made this?” Loki locked barely tearing eyes with you. “For me?”

“Yup! Kid designed the whole thing!” Stark kept you from answering. “Minus the bits we had to bring Strange in for the wizard-y things, this was a solo run. Did a pretty good job. Not sure I could have done much better.”

“Stark...” you grumbled, clearly not used to the praise.

“This is...” Loki tore his gaze away back to the vambrace. “I don’t... I don’t know what to say.” His voice was just loud enough for you to hear.

“A ‘thank you’ would be a good start. Now maybe this little intern will get more sleep,” Stark blundered before checking his watch. “Well, it’s about time for my morning scolding. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me!”

With that he whisked himself out of the room and to the elevator, leaving you and Loki in a terribly awkward silence.

“Hey...” you started. “If you don’t like it, we can scrap the design. It’s not a big deal-”

“Thank you.” His pupils were filled with a sincere gratefulness that few had ever seen before. “This is... This is simply splendid.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Loki spun on his heel to fully face you, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of you. “I mean it, Darling. This... No one has ever done something like this for me before. I would be honored to be your test subject,” he ended with a smirk.

“Well, if that’s the case,” you grinned right back at him, “I’d say let’s get some breakfast first. There will be plenty of time to optimize the vambrace later.”

Pulling back enough to release you from his cage of arms, he gestured for you to lead the way. “After you,” he breathed.

Hopping down from the table, you held out a hand for him. Hesitantly, Loki took it while running a thumb over your knuckles as you pulled him to the elevator with you.

[arvinsescape]

The Princess and the Guard.

A/N: Chapter two is here, this Chapter is a bit of a filler and more will happen in the next Chapter. I hope you all enjoy! I will accept feedback and constructive criticism. 

This series is not historically accurate and is not intended to be so please bare that in mind when you are reading, I am no real expert on how royalty works (even if I am from England).

This series will contain misogynistic language and views, violence, death and nsfw content. I will always put the relevant warnings into each chapter!

Teaser, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter Three, Chapter four

Warnings: None.

W/C: 2.4K (The chapters are set to get longer starting next week.)

Chapter two:

“You look like you had a good evening your highness.” Annie said as you made your way into your bedroom, your interaction with Tom still had your heart hammering in your chest.

“It did not turn out as badly as I had anticipated.” You answered and Annie smiled as she got to work unpinning your hair, taking the butterfly grip out first and placing it carefully into your jewellery box.

“Did you meet someone?” She asked, almost excitedly.

“No, no one my mother would be happy with.” You almost sighed. “Anyway, tell me, what will you be doing with your day off?” You asked changing the subject, Annie got a day off a week to be able to do as she pleased.

“I was hoping to go to the market and then visit my mother’s grave.” She said and you smiled sadly at her, she was so close to her mother, it saddened you that she lost her so young. “Then I was hoping to attend the bar that most of the staff do.” She said and it piqued your interest.

“Most of the staff? Who else goes?” You asked.

“Well Tuwaine and Sam go often.” She said and you smirked, it was no secret that Annie was attracted to Tuwaine. A blush often creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks when she spoke to him. Sam and Tuwaine were the lead chef’s in the kitchen. “Harry attends when he can.” She said and you smiled.

Harry and Sam where twins and Tom’s younger brother’s. Harry was in charge of training the royal guard to protect the crown and due to this he didn’t often get time off. They had an even younger brother Patrick who was training to be a stable hand, he loved the horses and taking care of them. Tom’s father worked as the groundskeeper, you’d had many conversations with him whilst walking through the grounds. Tom’s mother made most of the dresses you and your mother wore.

It was strange to you, your parents had employed Tom’s for years and you wondered if they would possibly be happy about you and Tom but you knew that was a long shot. Although your mother loved Tom’s family, she was still proper and everything had to be done in a certain way to her.

“Thomas goes.” Annie broke you from your thoughts, you tried to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face at the mention of Tom’s name. “He’s gets a lot of female attention.” She laughed and your stomach warped with disappointment.

“He does?” You asked.

“Well of course. Not to step out of line but he is a very attractive man. Women are all over him when he comes. He doesn’t often entertain them though.” She laughed.

“He does not?” You asked and she smiled shyly.

“He seems to have a very specific type. I’ve only seen him leave with three women this year and they all have a lot in common.”

“They do?”

“I’m sorry, I am saying too much. It’s not my place, Thomas probably would not appreciate my gossiping.”

“I will not tell him.” You smiled in reassurance and she returned it. She encouraged you to stand as she started working on unlacing your dress.

“Please forget I said anything, I wouldn’t want to start any vicious rumours.” She said and you decided to drop it, she’d asked, so you would. It would be wrong to push her because at some point she wouldn’t be able to deny your request and that was an abuse of your power that you didn’t like.

“How long has it been since you lost your mother?” You asked her, you knew it was the anniversary of her death tomorrow, she’d asked you politely and almost shyly for the second day off this week and of course you had given it to her.

“Ten years.” She said as she slipped your nightgown over your head before moving your ballgown to be cleaned. You moved to your jewellery box and looked through it to find the pearl necklace you’d received a few years ago from a suitor when he’d asked for your hand. You clutched it in your hand as you moved towards Annie and took her hand in yours.

You placed the pearl necklace into her palm and she gasped slightly as she looked at what you had given her.

“I want you to take this and I want you to sell it, it will get you a good price. Buy something nice for your mother’s grave and for yourself.” You smiled and you watched as tears pooled in her eyes.

“Princess, I cannot accept this.” She said as she tried to give it back to you.

“You can. I insist. I would rather this necklace went towards something nice and to a nice person rather than collect dust in that box.” You smiled.

“Thank you, your highness.” She said as she wiped at her eyes and you pulled her into a hug.

“I hope you have a lovely day off tomorrow and get to do what you wanted to do. I will miss you, Jane is lovely but she is not you.” You laughed.

“Thank you. I shall see you when I return.”

**

You didn’t mind Jane, she was a very good maid but she was nowhere near as shy as Annie is. She’s very open about what she wants and isn’t too afraid to give certain opinions. You’d had a pretty uneventful day, the palace had been quiet due to most of the staff being off for the day and your parents had been visiting a Lord not too far away, which meant most of the guard was also gone. Jane was currently unpinning your hair and she was staring at the butterfly grip.

“I always wanted to be a princess.” She said as she put the grip into your jewellery box, not as carefully as Annie would and you had to bite your tongue in order to not shout at her. “I would love to marry a man who could make me rich.” She added and you almost rolled your eyes.

“Life as a rich woman is not as glamourous as one might assume.” You said.

“It has to be better than how it is for us though. You have your pick of the men.” She said and you raised your brows. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“I may have my pick of many men but not many of them are nice.”

“But they have so much money. Not to be too inappropriate but that must be a good thing.” She said and you sighed.

“That is inappropriate. I would not like to be married to a man who I cannot stand.”

“What about that Duke? I’ve heard he has taken quite a liking to you.” She asked.

“I do not know him so well so I would not like to pass judgement.” You said as she began to brush your hair.

“I always wanted to marry your brother, he would have made me a princess and your sister.” You did raise your brows at that. “Sorry that was out of line.”

**

Once Jane was finished, you were quick to dismiss her, you did not enjoy her company at all the way you enjoyed Annie’s. You decided to head to the library in search of a romance novel you’d read so many times you’d lost count, after having found it you made your way back towards your room. A pair of voices however, stopped you in your tracks, you knew it was rude to eavesdrop but one of the voices had caught your attention.

“Jane.” You heard Tom’s voice, almost in warning.

“I don’t understand.” You heard Jane huff. “I thought you liked me.” She snapped.

“I’m not sure what gave you that impression.” You heard Tom answer, almost bored.

“We kissed last week.” Jane stated matter of factly and you swear your heart stopped at her words, you knew you shouldn’t have been bothered about it but you couldn’t help it.

“No, I believe you kissed me and I rejected you. I’m sorry Jane but I don’t like you that way.” You heard Tom say and it was like the words forced your heart to start beating again.

“Well I’m sorry that I don’t look like her.” You heard Jane snap. “You need to get a grip Tom, she’ll never like you back.” Your ears perked at that, he liked someone?

“I think you should go.” You heard Tom warn again.

“Unless you get some sudden cash injection and title change you’ll never be able to have her. Don’t make yourself miserable over a woman you can only wish has feelings for you, or even remembers your name.” Jane snapped again and you heard her footsteps as she rushed away from the conversation. Your heart was beating in your chest, your grip on the book was tight. He liked someone? Someone of a higher status?

You spent a few moments collecting yourself before you made your way around the corner and down the corridor, hoping Tom would have moved by now, he hadn’t. You realised that your appearance was less than appropriate, hair down, nightgown on, no shoes on at all. What would he think?

“Princess.” You heard his voice and you almost smiled.

“Tom.” You greeted and he smiled at you.

“Out for a late night walk?”

“No. Well yes. I wanted a book from the library.” You stumbled over your words, it felt foreign to you, you’d never struggled with what to say.

“I don’t think the Princess should be walking alone around the palace.” He almost scalded.

“Really? Who is going to tell me off? You?” You teased and he laughed.

“No. However, I would like to be a gentleman and escort you back to your room.” He said and you blushed.

“What would people think if they saw you escorting me to my bedroom?” You laughed and he smiled.

“They would probably assume I am doing my job.”

“You are Harrison’s guard, not mine.” You reminded him and he smiled.

“Correct, I am. However, Harrison does not need my services tonight and you may. Like I said, I would like to be a gentleman.” He smiled again and your heart fluttered.

“Alright then.” You said as you fell into step next to him, he looked down and smiled.

“You have no shoes on.” He pointed out and you laughed.

“I do not.”

“It looks cute.” He added and you both blushed. “Sorry, I should not have said that.”

“It’s alright, I cannot really get angry at a compliment.” You reassured.

“Please be careful where you step, I would not like you to hurt your feet.” He said nervously and you laughed.

“Tom, I thought we were passed the proper talk.”

“You still speak proper.” He teased and you breathed out a laugh.

“I apologise, I’m not really used to speaking to people that don’t expect it of me.” You said and instantly regretted the words. That sounded awful. “Wait, no. Sorry I didn’t mean-“

“I know what you meant.” He reassured and you relaxed.

“So Tom,” you pried. “Tell me. Do you have a special girl?”

“Something like that.” He answered.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You laughed. “You either do or you don’t.”

“Well I am in love with a woman, yes. But I doubt she sees me in such a way.” He answered.

“I’m sure she would.” You reassured. You were almost back to your room and you found yourself disappointed.

“Even if she did, it would be frowned upon. She is much too good for me.”

“That can’t be true. Tom, you are a lovely man. No one is too good for anyone.” You said.

“That isn’t true, this woman is special, she’s too good for everyone.” He said and you found yourself wanting to know who this woman was immediately.

“Who is it?” You asked as you stood outside your bedroom door.

“If I told you that Princess it would land me in a whole lot of trouble.” He said, there was no one around and you found yourself grateful.

“You can trust me.” You said and he smiled sadly.

“Even if I did tell her, it would change nothing. I’m in love with a woman I cannot have. Even if she did love me back, it would never be allowed. She would never be allowed to marry a guard.” He said and your heart burst in your chest, he was talking about you, that much was obvious and it filled you with a feeling you’d never had before, you couldn’t describe it.

“What if she didn’t care? What if the men she was supposed to marry didn’t interest her.” You said and he smiled.

“It wouldn’t matter, she can do better than me.” He said, you were close and if anyone were around they would deem it inappropriate but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“What if she didn’t think so.” You said, your faces had somehow gotten closer during the exchange. Your heart beating in your chest.

“Oh Princess, you really are perfect.” He whispered, it almost sounded like he was talking to himself. You found yourself holding your breath in anticipation as he leant even closer to you, your eyes closing. You waited to feel his lips on yours but you never did. Instead you felt his lips on your cheek, the spot he’d kissed was burning as he removed them.

It took you a moment to open your eyes, composing yourself, but once your eyes had opened you were met with nothing, you watched as he made his way down the corridor, around the corner and out of sight. You were left with your heart almost beating out of your chest and the biggest smile on your face you’d ever had.

**

Taglist: @allthisfortommy , @bi-lmg , @bigassnocash , @thoughtfulfireangelpersona , @aidinniram 

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[ragingpancake]

Lieutenant Colonel Idiot and the Kastat Root

A/N: I randomly came across a comment the other day while looking for H/C John fics where someone mentioned they wanted to see John having to have some sort of surgery off-world and this monstrosity happened. Unbetaed so all errors are mine, sorry about it!

Part 2 will be posted soon!

It starts with a stomachache and a fever. Okay no, scratch that. It started three days ago with a stomachache and a fever that he so stupidly decided to keep quiet about. He’d known that there was an upcoming mission on the books, knew that his team was scheduled to go off-world and knew that anything so much as a hangnail would ground him. So he’d just… you know, not mentioned it to anyone. Boy, had that been a mistake. So, it started three days ago with a stomachache and a the slightest of fevers that had just not gone away, annoying and ever present, but not so bad enough that it gave him cause for concern. Even earlier that morning as they loaded up into the Jumper, he’d not given it much thought, figuring that they’d just get through this mission and then he’d go talk to Carson if it hadn’t eased up. That had been his second mistake. Which is how he’s ended up here, sandwiched in between Ronon and Teyla at the feasting table with the good people of M3-X982 while Rodney waxes poetic about the almost-meatloaf they’d been served, all while trying to ignore just how hot he’d gotten, along with the stabbing pain he was experiencing less intermittently and more frequently as the night went by. He thinks he’s doing a fine job of hiding it, really, when Teyla leans over, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. “Are you alright, Colonel?” Busted.

He means to give her a lazy, lopsided smile, to brush off her concern but what happens instead is that another stabbing pain shoots through his middle and all he can do is gasp at the force of it, loud enough that even Rodney actually shuts up for once. Three things happen in rapid succession: Ronon, assuming the worst, rises quick enough to knock the chair he’s been occupying backwards, while pulling out the blaster and aiming it at their hosts while Teyla speaks quickly, trying to diffuse the situation, ever the diplomat. And John… well, he tries to tell Ronon to knock it off, that the Plesians hadn’t poisoned him, but all he manages is a pained whimper before his entire world seemingly shifts on its axis and sends him tumbling off of his chair and to the ground, keening like a wounded animal. -- He doesn’t realize at first that he’s curled up on his side, drenched in his own sweat and covered in vomit and oh wow, when did he even throw up? “Colonel Sheppard,” Teyla says, her voice calm and soothing, and when he glances up at her, he can see Rodney over her shoulder, completely scandalized at the mess. It might be funny, except you know, John’s having a real hard time focusing on anything other than the pain. “John,” Teyla says again, more firm this time, and right, okay, focusing. He can do this. He totally can. “Doctor Frenlen would like to examine you but for this to happen, we need to get you back to the quarters the Plesians have so graciously provided. Can you stand?” “Are you crazy?” Rodney snaps and he might be even more pale than John is. “Of course he can’t stand, if he could stand, he wouldn’t be laying in a puddle of his own puke, now would he?” Teyla, the beautiful soul that she is, doesn’t even dignify Rodney’s snappish response with so much as a glance, instead looking up to Ronon with a nod. “Sorry Sheppard,” he mutters before he’s crouching down and lifting John into his arms. And John, stoic though he usually is… Well. He doesn’t really remember that part but later, Ronon will tell him about how he screamed and promptly passed out. Great. ----

See, this a prime example as to why Rodney McKay actually hatesthe Pegasus Galaxy. Atlantis, not so much, though there have been times that he’s found himself very cross with her too, but usually, she doesn’t try to kill them.

Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate, what with the (almost) ascension thing. And the virus meant to eradicate anyone not possessing the ATA gene… And the-- Okay, you know what? May she has tried to kill them but that’s not the point right now. The point is, they’re stuck on another god forsaken planet with absolutely no access to the gate thanks to the literal acid rainthat’s pouring down outside, something that the Plesians assure them will pass come morning because it does this every damn night here and why on Earth hadn’t the ancient database warned them of this?

Maybe he needs to take Atlantis off the pedestal he’s placed her on and add her to the list of things he hates about Pegasus after all. Okay, he’ll take that back. Maybe. Probably once Sheppard’s done with his poorly timed medical emergency, which brings him back to the present, crowded in a tiny room with a man old enough to be his grandfather “examining” the aforementioned Colonel. Rodney has never wished Carson was part of their gate team as much as he does in this moment, because for all the ways that medical “science” was actual voodoo, at least Carson seemed to be the most intelligent shaman they’ve come across to date. Present company included. The “Doctor” is hovering over John, poking and prodding, each touch eliciting quiet moans and whimpers from the barely conscious Sheppard, which worries Rodney enough as is. John usually prefers to suffer in manly silence and the fact that’s unable to remain stupidly stoic in this particular instance means that something must be really, really wrong. And that’s when Frenlen’s hand barely ghosts over John’s right side and the scream that Sheppard releases is one that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. “Please,” John pants as Teyla takes his hand, offering him as much comfort as she possibly can while Ronon stands at John’s head, fingering his blaster with an almost murderous look directed at Frenlen. “Please don’t do that again,” and another pained moan escapes him. Rodney, for his part, is taken back to the week after his seventeenth birthday when he was hospitalized with acute appendicitis and oh no. Oh, no, no, no. “What is it, Doctor McKay?” Teyla asks and he doesn’t realize that he’s moved from the spot that he’s previously been rooted to. He ignores her, glaring down at Sheppard. “How long?” He asks through almost clenched teeth. “What are you—“ Ronon tries, but Rodney cuts him off. “How long, Sheppard?” And Rodney might smack him if not for the fact that his fri—the Colonel didn’t look quite so pathetic, black hair matted to his forehead with fever, face pale from the pain. He still thinks about it when John answers, “coupla’ days.” “He needs the kastat root,” Frenlen interjects and Rodney has never hated medicine as much as he does in this moment. “No,” he snaps. “He needs an appendectomy.” Frenlen blinks at him, face blank and oh great. Of course. Of course he has no idea what Rodney’s talking about because that’s absolutely their luck. “We need to get back to the gate,” Rodney says and Frenlen shakes his head. “You can’t. The rain will not cease until morning,” which was still several hours away by their estimation and what if Sheppard doesn’t have that long? If his stupid appendix has already ruptured, there’s a possibility that infection is already seeping into abdominal cavity, and with Lieutenant Colonel Idiot having sat on this for “a coupla’ days” (God, Rodney wants to punch him), there’s an extremely good chance that that’s exactly what’s taking place. If not, Rodney would bet that they don’t have much longer until it does. “Rodney,” Teyla says, pulling Rodney from his thoughts. “What do we need to do?” We? “He needs his appendix removed!” Rodney says and if he sounds a little distressed by that little fact, he thinks he’s probably a little entitled. “We need Carson, we have to—.” “Rodney, I need you to focus,” Teyla says again. “John needs you to focus.” He can tell she’s just as worried as he is, can see it in her eyes but damn if she doesn’t hide it well. “We cannot get to the Stargate until morning. Can this wait until then?” “No! No, this definitely cannot wait until morning! He needs surgery, and, and, and—” “Then tell us what you need us to do so that we might begin.” What? What? “What do you--.” “Doctor Frenlen is uncertain of this ailment, but it seems that you are. As you said, we need to move quickly and--.” “I don’t… I don’t know if I’m exactly okay with this,” Sheppard manages and as Teyla’s hand moves to his overly warm forehead, Rodney feels a little insulted by that.

“What do you mean, you’re not okay with this!” He says, despite the fact that he’snot okay with this. Now, it’s just a matter of pride, honestly. “I mean you’re a scientist, Rodney. Not a… fuck. Not a doctor.” “John,” Teyla says gently and when the Colonel glances up to meet her eyes, her face softens just a bit. “We may not have a choice. You are very sick, according to Doctor McKay, and we have no access to the Stargate for several more hours. This is our only option.” “Are we really doing this?” Ronon asks, and Rodney and Teyla respond at the same time. “No!” “Yes!” But Rodney can’t do this. He’s no longer offended because he knows John’s right. He’s not a medical doctor, he has no idea what he’s doing and, and, and. “I’ll do it then,” Ronon growls. “Oh, great idea!” Rodney snaps again because that’s exactly what Sheppard needs; Chewbacca poking around in his guts, more than likely causing more damage. “The kastat root,” Doctor Frenlen supplies unhelpfully and Rodney wonders if the entire galaxy has gone mad in this moment. “Shut up!” And the doctor steps back, mouth snapped closed, and Rodney’s just about to tell them all that they have no choice but to wait, when John pitches over the side of bed, vomiting violently, and when an actual sobescapes him, Rodney realizes that he is so, so screwed. “I need… I need something to knock him out,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound quite like his own. “The kas—” “If you say kastat root one more time--…” “Rodney!” Teyla admonishes and excuse him if he’s a little stressed right now. He’s allowed to be, considering he’s about to cut someone open. “The kastat root,” Doctor Frenlen says, “has several medicinal properties. We use it on Plesia to numb the pain from certain injuries.” Oh. Well. How was Rodney supposed to know that? “It’ll knock him out, right?” There’s a look of confusion on the doctor’s face, and when they get back to Atlantis, Rodney is so deleting this gate address from the database. NEVER AGAIN. “What Doctor McKay is asking,” Teyla interjects, “is if your kastat root will render the Colonel unconscious.” “Oh no,” Frenlen responds. “Not at all. But it should help with the pain.” Sheppard must sense just how entirely screwed he is but he seems resigned to his fate. “Do it,” he manages. “I don’t think you understand just what you’re asking me to do!” And if Rodney is shrieking just a little, they’ll just have to deal with it. “I can’t just—” “Rodney,” John says again, voice catching in his throat. “I trust you.” “The root, Doctor Frenlen,” Teyla says urgently and the doctor moves to dig through his bag, producing the smallest vial of anything Rodney has ever seen. Before he can protest any further, Teyla pops the cork and with one gentle hand cupping John’s chin, she urges him to open his mouth to drink. He does, and once she’s satisfied, she glances up at Ronon. “Hold him down,” she says quietly. “ I need--. I need a knife,” Rodney manages in a voice that does not sound like his own, and of course Frenlen is no further help but there’s Ronon, pulling a dagger from his boot and Rodney blanches. This is so not sanitary. He uses the procured dagger to slice away John’s shirt and Rodney can see the slight distension of his stomach. He can only pray that it hasn’t yet ruptured because he has nothing to clean the infection and between that and using a dagger from Ronon’s boot, Rodney is certain that John will not survive that. But as certain as he is of that, he’s also certain that if they do nothing, there’s still a good chance that John won’t survive and, and, and--. “You’re gonna… you’re gonna have to hold him extremely well,” Rodney says to Ronon, eyes wild, face coated in a sheen of sweat and when did it get so hot in here? “If he moves even the slightest—” “I’ve got him,” Ronon assures him and Teyla does too, having moved down to Colonel’s legs to hold them in place so that he would not kick. Rodney chances a glance down at John’s face and the other man gives him a barely there

nod before he swallows hard as Rodney brings the knife down, pressing it against him… --- The sound of John’s screams will haunt Rodney for the rest of his life. He’s under no delusions about that. He’d once thought that nothing would ever compare to watching John be fed on by Koyla’s wraith, but hearing those screams, knowing he’d been the one to cause it… The acid rain has stopped.

Teyla had left some time ago to run to the gate. Frenlen had finally proved more useful when he’d produced more of those little vials of kastat root. Rodney had taken them moment he’d dropped the dagger, John’s thankfully in tact appendix on the floor at his feet, and forced them down the Colonel’s throat. He figured if the asshole overdosed from some off-world root, then that was on him because they should’ve never asked Rodney--… He should have never… They shouldn’t… He doesn’t get a chance to complete another thought before the door to the room opens and in spills Carson with a skeleton med crew, ushering Rodney out of the way. And honestly, Rodney’s doing okay, he’s holding it together until someone steps on the appendix and all of a sudden all bets are off. He gags, but before he has a chance to upend all the contents of his stomach, Ronon is hauling him off, barely managing to get him outside before Rodney loses it. The noises that escape him as he pukes up everything he’s eaten for what feels like the last three weeks should be embarrassing. The entire situation shouldbe embarrassing but Rodney doesn’t care. There’s vomit and snot and tears (oh, where did they come from?) when he finally gags one last time, spitting out a mouth full of bile, and he didn’t even realize he was no longer alone until he feels a heavy hand drop onto his shoulder. “You did good,” Ronon says gruffly, like maybe Rodney’s not the only one affected by what they did. After all, Ronon was the one who’d been helping to hold him down once Rodney had started cutting, even as John screamed and begged for them to stop. Rodney says nothing until the medical team comes out, carrying John on a gurney will Teyla following close behind. She pauses, briefly, and reaches for Rodney’s hand, squeezing ever so gently, but Rodney waits until she’s far enough away before he glances up at Ronon. “We are never coming back to the this backwards fucking…” He doesn’t even have to finish before Ronon is nodding and squeezing his shoulder. “Come on,” the Satedan says. “Let’s go home.” -- By the time they make it back to Atlantis, it seems that the entire base is waiting for them. Rodney doesn’t even get an opportunity to say anything to Carson or the still unconscious Sheppard before he’s being pulled away by Elizabeth for a SITREP and she barely gets out the standard Weir what the hell happened before Rodney is puking again. Great.

Part 2

[thevoilinauttheory]

The Funeral

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 29: Debonair ]

[ Content Warnings: passive suicidal ideation; death and blood mentions ]

[ Just want to note here... that this started as one thing and ended as another and don’t have the energy to change it because it ended up being so long lol I wanted to try something different, but then it went *way* different, so. Uh. Here you go! 😂 official video not posted due to the fact that it was flashing enough to bother me, so it might bother someone else. ]

==

“He’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Have you seen him ever show an onze of emotion?” “He may be the eldest, but do they really think he’d be the best heir?” “He’d run the family into the ground, if given the chance.”

He could hear them through the walls, the jabs at his character. How dare they? Was he not the perfection the rest of the noble community sought? Or was it his perfection that made them think as such? His ears twitched. Someone was coming, and by the weight of the footsteps…

“Cedre, Mother wishes to speak with you.” Sylvain gripped at the hem of his shirt - nervous. All of his siblings were intimidated by him. All of the people he would call his friends did the same. Cedrenaux stood from the bench he sat on, waiting for his parents to call him in. This gathering was supposed to be one of levity, other houses joining them for a single night of enjoyment. It was always too bright in here. The bright blues, the bright reds, the bright violets and whites and lights. Dear gods, the lights. He spoke no words to his brother, passing by him in some furied silence. Or, what Sylvain would think as he passed by.

“Cedrenaux, dear! Look at you, dressed to the nines~.” His aunt was the first to applaud him - for what, exactly? He never knew. All of them praised him for some unholy reason. “Well, it is only proper for him to be dressed so.” His mother was a walking contradiction. Doting, and yet, not so easily impressed. She brushed some of his stray hairs down, the wavy near-curls springing up to their own liking. Despite the fact that he was old enough to do so himself, old enough to speak for himself, he did not. “I want you to meet this lovely girl,” She turned him towards a beautiful woman, slightly older than him; fair skin, chestnut hair, what wondrous green eyes. “This is Cassandra Babineaux, under House Dzemael. Cassandra, this is my eldest son--” “Cedrenaux. A pleasure.” His voice was dry, it said anything but. He offered her a formal bow. “You two are to spend much time together, in fact, why don’t you get to know each other a bit more now?”

==

“Cassandra is to be your bride, Cedrenaux, you must compose yourself well.” “Yes, Mother.” He stood still as his mother fussed over his appearance, brushing lint from his shoulders, straightening his jacket. While it was infuriating to be coddled like a child, he let her do her thing, letting out a short sigh when she stepped away. “While this marriage is arranged, you two have gotten along so well - we thought it best that you would propose to her in a traditional fashion as well. I am certain it would mean a lot to her.” “Yes, Mother.”

He couldn’t stand her. There was always something off about the woman. To be married to her was going to be a long road, one that would likely never end - not until he was at the end of his days. The temptation was there - death would be far preferable, but he knew that his family needed this. After the accurate accusation of his grandmother as a heretic by the Dzemaels - his mother’s mother, worse off - they needed to make amends to the House. To prove that just one was enough. Once his mother left him, he took himself to the closest mirror. His hair was tied up in a bundle of wavy curls, not quite untamed, though no less annoying. He pulled the band from it, letting it fall loose; using his fingers to comb it out. Princely, straight from a faerie tale - that’s what Cassandra had called it. Disgusting.

“Cedrenaux?” A soft voice peered through the door, nervous and shaking. “Isabelle, is something amiss?” “N-No, not… not really. You look upset.” “...I am.” “Is it the marriage?” “...” He nodded slowly as he strode to the door, opening it fully for his youngest sister. She was easy to talk to, she had no room to judge anyone else, nor did she have a habit of doing so. “It’ll… be okay, I think.” Cedrenaux shook his head. “No, it will not. I do not like her in the slightest.” “But you got along so well…” “Because I was forced to… I do not want to marry, and especially not her.” “Why is that?” “Aside from a bad feeling…? I… I cannot say.” He muttered to himself, eyes to the floor, a crack in his usual expression. “...I simply do not like any aspect of her.” “Have you found another lady that caught your fancy?” “....” How was he supposed to answer that? He opted for another shake of his head. “No. I have had no interest in any of them. I have been putting my focus into my studies.” “I see.” She needed no other words to explain, she only smiled. “It’ll be okay. I can feel it. In the end, it’ll be okay.”

==

“I… am at a loss for words.” “Cedre, dear, please, I didn’t mean--” “Did not mean…? For what? To take on another man, force him into marriage? We have two children, Cassandra - that something like this happened is beyond me.” “You’re not… leaving, are you?” “Your kind are not wont to change.” “B-But.. the kids-” “Are in your capable hands. Perhaps you will no longer find your eyes wandering when you are pressured to do the job I have been doing whilst you were galavanting about with another man. The poor sod better be thankful he got away when he could.” “...Not without stealing the better half of our funds…” “Of your funds. Good riddance too.” “Cedre y-you sound so…” “Pleased? Gods be, I am. I had been looking for years for a way to get you far from me.”

Those words were heartbreaking to anyone who would hear them - and a relief to the one who said them. Cedrenaux finally felt a weight off of his shoulders. Such a relief to breathe out. “Since we are on that topic, I had never liked you to begin with - we were only together thanks to our parents.” “L-Love, I--” “Do not address me as such, lumping me in with the Brume rabble you called your lover. Of course, I side with him - the abuse you have fed both of us.” “You would punish our children over this?!” The shock wore off, it turned to anger. “Hm? I am sorry, did you say “our”? No, no. They are your children now. You can disclude me from the picture. Of course, I did already speak to them. They are old enough to understand how rotten you are, and thankfully, old enough to know how to ruin the rest of your days. Of course, in the end, you will have wonderful heirs to your house and name. Seeing as I taught them as such.”

“What would your mother say once you came home? She’d be disappointed, angry. She’d make you come back.” “Oh, do not worry. Your backstabbing name will be littered upon the ears of others, I am certain my mother will be just fine with it.”

==

“Please, wait! Wait, I have evidence!” Cedrenaux tried to push his way past the Templars which guarded the Vault. Guarded the trial - the trial against his parents. He held above him the papers, the ones that showed their innocence. “They are not guilty, you must hear me!”

“Lord Voilinaut.” One of the clergy approached him - a tone that made his heart sink. She took the papers from him, a slight twitch of shock. “I apologize, my lord, but you are too late. Their sentence was held a quarter of a bell ago. These papers, however -...” She shook her head. “This would not be enough, though I will see to it that these are filed properly so that no future mistakes will happen.”

“Y-You… admit… it was… a mistake?” He could feel it, it boiled under him, made his skin itch. He bared his teeth in a scowl, words sharp with his shouts. “You would murder for your own sakes?! They were not guilty! If I could find the evidence, why could you not have?!” The Templars struggled to keep the young lord from attacking the clergywoman, having to catch him by his collar and arms. “I apologize, my lord. I do not oversee the investigations, but I shall apprise them of the situation so that no others will have to face an injustice like this.” Cedrenaux managed to settle himself, composing with a sigh. “...Very well… so long as it does not happen again. You will regret the next time it does.”

He could hear the papers burning in the room she had left to.

==

“I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. If I could ask a favor of you…” An Elezen, far taller than he - though who would not be? Even the hyurs in the city were taller than him. Dressed in nobles’ clothes, light hair, fair eyes. “And you are?” “Tristan.” “...Tristan.” “My… full name is rather long, and this moniker suits me well.” “I see, and what can I do for you?” “...It…” Tristen looked about for any passerbys. “Perhaps we could sit over here, it… concerns a rather personal matter.” He gestured to the gazebo of the Voilinaut’s estate. Cedrenaux nodded, leading in taking a seat.

“I… have heard many things. I would clarify if they are true or not, and if they are… perhaps you could listen to my plight. I have heard that upon your divorce with Cassandra, your parents were tried for heresy.” “...That is true. You know of Cassandra?” “I know that she is behind it - ah… I know… from personal experience, as she has done the same with my family. They are currently in a gaol awaiting their sentence.” “How do you know?” “...She screamed at me as such when I pushed myself from her.” “You were…?” “Also married, yes. At the time you were.” “You certainly do not look the part of the man I had found her with. Do you mean to say she was doing as such with three individuals?” “I am, yes.”

Cedrenaux folded his arms over his chest, inhaling sharply. He closed his eyes to think, ears twitching to the sounds of other gossip from down the road. “...And what favor would you ask of me.” “That I may remain in your estate as a guest, until I am given my home back after the investigation. I am without one, currently.” “....” He wasn’t keen on sharing his home with strangers, especially since they were in the process of moving furniture out; sorting through paperwork and memories. How could he not lend aid to another who has shared this pain - who will share this pain. He knew that Tristan would not see his family again. Cedrenaux nodded slowly, bringing a bright smile to Tristan’s face. “I thank you, sir,” “Cedrenaux.” “I thank you, Cedrenaux. For your kindness.” He shook his head. “...Do not worry of it. My family will see to it that you will have a place to stay. Do excuse the mess.”

==

With a heavy thud, Tristan had his back trapped against the wall. Such brashness was rewarded with the second heavy emotion he had shown - first anger, now… Cedrenaux sputtered under his words, some semblance of fear on his face as his fingers clutched into the hem of his own shirt. Tristan let out a bright laugh, that perfectly playful smile. He was so forward, how could anyone act without shame - or at least thought to their actions. Or, perhaps he did think it over and--

“You’re so adorable like this!” Tristan pushed off the wall to let Cedrenaux have some breathing room. “L-Like what? What do you mean?” Despite the blatant display of emotion, and the catch of his teeth on his lips, his voice still stayed dry and even. “C’mon, I know you’re not that much of an idiot.” Silence. There was no response - he definitely was not that much of an idiot, still--

“Why?” “Why not?” He was nudged with an elbow. “The moons I’ve stayed here, you have shown nothing but care and kindness to your family - and myself. Of course, not everyone would call it that, but… you really are adorable.” Tristan leaned forward to pinch his cheek. His smile faded as he lowered his voice. “You have a lot of qualities about you that no one else does, something the rest of Ishgard needs. You exude safety, protection, you’re diligent - strong.” His smile came back with something softer. “They don’t see it, but I do.”

“...” Cedrenaux looked down to the floor - he was tense from the surprise, but it was relief that came from his breath. “Thank you.” It took a bit, a little moment, but he smiled. Nothing as bright as the man’s in front of him, but it existed. He took a careful step forward, hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing… but he wrapped his arms around him, tucking his head into Tristan’s chest. “....” He smelled of Starlight - he wouldn’t forget that. Pine and cinnamon, a fresh fire, winter air. It was… it was comforting. It reminded him of the times he could truly be a child with no worry of others’ thoughts. “...Thank you…” His voice was soft now, afraid to speak aloud. Gods, if his siblings saw him.

Even Tristan was surprised by the forward action on Cedrenaux’s part, but he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close as he placed his head atop his. “Just one night?” “...Just one.”

==

One night turned to moons - moons of a fleeting emotion.

“Is Lord Tristanaireux in? We received word that he would be staying with your house.”

Several Templars were at their door. Cedrenaux knew exactly what that meant. “The investigation is over then? Should he return home?” “...He is, yes.” Their hesitation said otherwise. He saw that too. “Is that right, then? I will escort him then, to make sure he arrives safely.” “There is no need for that, we will-” “I do not trust you. After the last time, I refuse to.” “My lord, we have found relics of heresy amongst his belongings. He needs to be turned in--” “You would lie to me, on my estate?” Cedrenaux’s voice got low, deep, something dark.

“A-Apologies, m-my lord…” “Leave. Come back when you have hard evidence that it is his, and that it was not planted by you nor anyone else.” “Sir, you will be tried, too, if--” “Learn your battles, boy.” The Templars at his door were armed, and yet they made no moves against him. As if they truly were afraid of just him alone.

“Lord Cedrenaux, is aught amiss?” Another lord from the Dzemael house, when would they leave him alone? “No, in fact, these kind gentlemen were here to let me know that my friend is allowed to return home. ...Yes?” His glare pierced them. He made these fools stand straight, near threatened into admitting so. “Is that so? I had heard just the opposite. Are you housing a heretic, Lord Cedrenaux?” “On baseless accusation. Show me the evidence, and I will turn him over.” “The Vault is already in the possession of the evidence, s-sir…” The Templars spoke up again. “Then tell them to show me.”

His continuance on their argument was cut short, with Tristan looming over his shoulder. “What’s going on now?” “Back inside, now.” The sound of his voice turned to urgency, he was thankful Tristan understood - the man took a hefty step back, just before the sharp cry. “Grab the heretic, now!” Without so much as a second thought, the Templars trampled over Cedrenaux to seize Tristan from the hallway - dragging him out to the streets as he kicked. “Let go! I know naught of what you speak!”

As Cedrenaux found the strength to pick himself up off the floor, his eyes turned to the door - to the road - to the people across from his home - to the smile of the woman standing there. Her.. this was her fault. “Tristan!” His boots skid along the stone as he broke into a sprint. “Cedre!” The sound of his name was cut with a cry and grunt, a chained elbow smashed into his face - thrown into the ring in which the trial was being held. “Stop! I beg of you, please think before you act!”

It felt like the trial held for his parents, another mistake - another intentional mistake.

“The evidence was planted, my lords!” “By who.” They spoke to him, they addressed him. Gods be, he had a chance. “Cassandra Babineaux. She admitted to accusing not only his family, but mine as well, of baseless heresy. I had word that investigations would be thorough.” “What motives would she have to do this?” “We are both her ex-husbands, having committed adultery against us both - she seeks revenge for our leaving.” “Have the guard fetch this woman then.”

He could hear it, the sigh of relief from his love.

==

“I do not know what you speak, my lord! Why would I take the risk of being accused, myself? If I had planted it, I would have had the evidence on me at some point!” “Anything for revenge… first my grandmother, then my parents, now this…”

She lied through her teeth, she lied, and they both knew.

“Lord Cedrenaux, why would you accuse this woman of--” “Why would you believe her words over mine? Do you think me a liar, my lord? I have stood by and watched countless of my family die at your hands on false accusations - the truths brought to light, and still, you would do this?” “Why would you accuse me? I have found my love, I do not need yours nor his!” “Be- Because… I saw that look on your face, when I was on my way here, that smile of yours.” “Can I not greet you on the street?” “...” His jaw clenched. “Not when you just witnessed this man being dragged off.”

“Lord Voilinaut.” “Check her home, then, if you dare will! There’s plenty more evidence to plant, isn’t there?! One at a time, you will pick off those I love… who next, then? Sylvain? Valera? Isabelle?” He saw the corner of her mouth twitch at the mention of his youngest sister, that little detail. “Snake, impudent hag - you would harm such an innocent girl for your petty spite against me?!” Everything in his body could not stop him from lashing out, jumping on her in an instant - he only landed a single blow to her face before the Templars snatched him away from her.

“Calm yourself this instant!” The loud thud of a hand against the table snapped him from his rage. “You would conduct yourself in this manner, Lord Cedrenaux? Your accusation of your ex-wife is paranoia, that she is out to get you - she has clearly moved on. We will consider your evidence null.” “N-No, please! Do not harm him! He is innocent!” It was the first time he had ever cried, even as a baby; he screamed, but never shed a tear - he choked on his sobs. “Please…” He would resort to begging if it made it so, he sunk to his knees - he did not expect to hear the scream so close to his ears, so loud, it took up the room. He heard nothing else. The thump of the body on the floor, the spill of blood. The tile was stained with it.

Even as the room cleared, he did not move - he could not move. He cried, coughed, sobbed, screamed and yelled and begged what gods there were to make it stop.

In the end, all he could do was make certain that his family was safe.

[pilyarquitect]

3 “What happened to your hand(s)?”

I've a few more requests wrote that will soon be updated, but unfortunately after publishing them all, I'll close requests for a while. Sorry, life is taking me a lot.

As the last time, since the person who requested those one-shots said he didn't care if they were in English or Spanish, I decided to do half and half, and this one is in English.

**************************************

Leo woke up at dawn. He could feel his heavy eyes, trying to close themselves against his will. But Leo forced himself to keep awake. He had this feeling, a feeling Mikey named bro-needs-superdetector…

Honestly, Mikey needed to work more in the name, since Leo wouldn’t admit loudly, but Mikey’s ability to name all the creatures they found during all the time since they went to the surface for the first time, was admirable. And actually, all the names were quite accurate.

But returning to what woke Leo up, it was true every time one of his brothers needed help, Leo had this feeling. So, after tying his mask, he left his bed and his room, the older brother headed first to his youngest brother’s room. He put his ear on the door and listened carefully. He could hear his little brother inside, snoring peacefully and muttering “pizza”, “pepperoni”, “candies” and similar words. So Mikey wasn’t the one who needed help, he was dreaming with pizza, nothing strange in that.

Next door was Raph’s. Leo knew he had to be careful. Raph wasn’t as easy as him to wake up, but if he made the mistake of wake up Raph, Leo was sure he could end up with one of his wrathful brother’s sai nailed somewhere in his body, totally accidental, of course, Raph would never do it on purpose – at least Leo hoped he wouldn’t – but the second older brother had a very bad awakening, and if he wasn’t careful, he would surely pay the consequences of it.

The blue-clad turtle repeated the action he did with Mikey’s room, and fortunately, he heard hard snoring coming from the inside of the muscular turtle. Raph was alright too. That left only one option, Donnie was the one who needed help.

Using his ninja training, Leo went as silent as possible – to not wake up Raph – from the red-clad turtle’s room to his genius room. And once in front of the door, for the thirst time that night, Leo repeated the operation of listening inside. But unlike the other two times, Leo could hear nothing coming from Donnie’s room. It seemed as if it was empty. Leo frowned. He saw the tallest turtle walk to his room. Why was it so quiet now? Carefully, the older brother opened a little bit the door’s room.

“Donnie?” he whispered “Donnie, are you there?”

Silence.

The oldest brother opened the door a little more and looked inside. To be honest, he wasn’t surprised upon seeing his genius brother’s room empty. It wasn’t the first time Donnie sneaked out of his room in the middle of the night, and Leo knew perfectly well where did the genius turtle went every time he did this.

Leo immediately headed to the lab. He was convinced Donnie would be there. The big doors were opened and the light was opened, making Leo be sure his hypothesis was right. Leo was glad that his brother didn’t close the door. This made his job easier. Carefully and silent, the older brother walked to the lab. As he got close, he could hear his genius brother muttering to himself as he seemed to be looking for something.

Leo looked inside and saw his brother next to the first aid supply cabinet. Seeing him there made Leo fear his brother was injured, so before he could stop himself, he was entering to the lab.

“Donnie? Are you okay?”

The oldest brother heard an instant scream for his obvious surprised brother, and what he had at his hands fall to the ground. Fortunately, what fall down was a pack of gauze. Leo moved his eyes from his brother to the table and immediately noticed the broken glass on it. Alarms raised on Leo’s mind, and he took a better look on Donnie and soon realized.

“What happened to your hands?”

Donnie’s eyes widened, but soon he tried to cover the fact he had been caught by making it seem something not worthy to worry about.

“Oh well, that’s… not as bad as it seems.”

“Donnie, this isn’t what I asked!” Leo replied with a hard expression.

The oldest brother’s look along with his tone weren’t enough to make Donnie stop pretending.

“Well, you’ll see…”

Leo knew his brother was trying to avoid the fact he would have to explain what was he doing, but on the other side, Leo noticed his brother knew with a little bit more of pressure there wouldn’t be any possible scape way, so Leo made sure to give the genius turtle the pressure he needed.

“Donnie.”

The purple clad turtle sighed. He was defeated and he had no other choice than explain everything to Leo.

“I was trying to find a retro-mutagen, but while mixing different chemicals, suddenly it produced an exothermically reaction and before I could even realize, it exploded.” Donnie giggled. “Fortunately, by instinct I protected my face, although, since I was wearing my lab glasses my eyes wouldn’t get damaged, but I couldn’t tell the same for the rest of my face.”

Leo nodded in understanding.

“So, you got hurt on your hands instead of your face.”

“Exactly.” Said Donnie nodding too.

Leo sighed. He expected something like this actually. He looked at his brother, especially his hands. They seemed to hurt. Leo sighed again. He knew what to do.

“Come on, let me help you.”

He made his brother accompany him and started to heal his hands. While working, an awkward silence set up on them. Leo looked discretely at Donnie’s face, but the genius turtle avoided to look at him or his hands, he was looking to an unspecific zone of the ground. There was something bothering Donnie, Leo was sure of that, and it was his job as older brother to find it out and help him in the best way possible. For that reason, Leo cleared his throat.

“So, what were you doing here so late?” he asked in the most casual way possible.

Donnie stared at him adopting a surprised look. He was looking at him as if Leo had two heads.

“I’ve already told you, trying to find a retro-mutagen.” The purple-clad turtle answered sounding a little annoyed.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know that.” Leo took a deep breath. “What were you doing here when you were supposed to be sleeping?”

“Oh that… well, it’s true Sensei told me to go to sleep, and I really tried to, but I just couldn’t.” Donnie admitted. He closed his eyes and shame was perfectly reflected in his attitude. “Because of our negligence, there are a lot of mutants out here, and to help them all – April’s dad included – to recover their normal lives, I’ve to find a retro-mutagen.”

Leo looked at his brother with a sad expression. He knew perfectly well that, from them all, Donnie was the one who blamed himself the most for what happened. Specially since April decided not to talk to them anymore after finding out they were responsible of his dad’s mutation.

Leo feared Donnie’s inner self-blame could end up destroying him, and he wasn’t going to allow this happen. Not in his watch.

“Donnie, do you feel guilty that all the mutagen fallen from that Kraang ship?” he asked directly while looking his brother reaction.

Donnie immediately looked at him with a surprised expression.

“What? No, well, maybe yes…” he admitted “I could have done something to prevent all those cans to fall, but I failed, and innocent people is paying for it.”

Leo sighed. His assumption was right, but he had to stop it before it went to far.

“Donnie, it wasn’t just you,” Leo put a hand on Donnie’s shoulder “it was our fault, the four of us. You cannot bear the sole blame for what happened.”

Donnie looked away, unable to keep eye contact with his oldest brother.

“You may be right Leo, but we both know I’m the only one capable to find a retro-mutagen, and if I don’t find it, we won’t be able to do anything else.”

Leo lowered his head, what Donnie said was true, but Leo didn’t want all this pressure on his brother, he didn’t want him to believe he was carrying all the weight of the world to a point where he’d start forgetting his own health in order to save everyone.

“I know Donnie, but I also know you’ll find a way to cure all those mutants, I trust you. But right now, to be more productive, you need to let your brain rest.”

Donnie giggled and looked at his brother with a tinny smile in his face.

“Where did you get that from?”

Leo adopted a thoughtful expression, and pretended to think for a while about it.

“Honestly, I don’t know, but I think it’s a good thing to say.”

Donnie shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Just maybe?” asked Leo crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fine, it is, I’ll may take your advice and ‘let my brain rest’.”

“That would be good.”

The two of the laughed at this until they remembered everyone else was sleeping.

[fanfictionlover333]

Sea Of Stars

This the story of the second greatest pirate to have ever been born. Surely, you do not believe Jack Sparrow could be outdone.

Jason Baker is his name, and this tale is one of his countless adventures. It begins on the ship known as The Phoenix. Calling it a ship could be considered an insult. If one wanted a more accurate description, one might say it was a magnificent vessel of monumental proportions. What would he do if someone damaged The Phoenix? Nothing compared to what he would do to someone who hurt his love.

Captain Baker was watching stars rush by him as he stood on the deck. With the universe at the tip of his fingers, he was completely free. Yet, that belief in total freedom was marred when a burning cannonball crashed through the shield into the yardarm. Baker's head swiveled around to the aft where the flaming projectile was shot from. In the distance, Baker spotted a ship. Its hull was bright emerald green. Baker smiled inwardly amused by the prospect of a showdown with the target who stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Listen up crew!" Captain Baker bellowed strolling calmly to the helm. He took the wheel from his first mate with a devious smirk. "Time to make the fuckers pay Clayton." He whispered leaning in toward his beloved. He could drown in his sapphire blue eyes and lose himself in Clayton's broad shoulders. Then he redirected his attention to the rest of his crew, Baker cleared his throat before continuing to speak. "If they want a battle, we will give the bastards a war, Ready the cannons arm the laser guns."

The captain's commands were met with an eruption of cheers from the men and women on the deck below. Meanwhile, Clayton’s eyes remained fixed on the captain watching his long shaggy black hair lay against his old leather coat moving up and down with his shoulders. The twinkle in Baker's sea-blue eyes told Clayton things were going to spin out of control. This realization should have scared him and perhaps it would have been if he were not with Baker. They were a team, and nothing could tear them apart. After the second shot barely missed them thanks to Baker's superb steering Clayton bolted down to the engine room.

"It's about bloody time! Where have you been you nitwit?!" Paulette Little snapped bursting with outrage. "Does everyone expect me to wave a blasted wand to repair a cannon ball-sized hole? The mechanic's words came out blistering with indignation.

Clayton let out a chuckle, "well Paulette no one can say you lack in passion." Clayton's playful verbal jab was met with a string of what he could only assume were colorful insults. Then she got down to business. The redhead started barking out commands with no time to waste.

Paulette would have appeared fragile to anyone who saw her outside the ship. Her thin frame permitted her to move freely within the cramped space. As she wiggled in-between and crawled underneath the damaged pieces in the shield generator. All the while, Paulette gave Clayton instructions on how to reboot the computer and what tools to hand her. Moments later they both breathed a sigh of relief when the shield came back online. However, it was short-lived because the ship slammed into something. "That mad man is going to kill us all!" Paulette bellowed.

"Probably sooner than later," Clayton rumbled with laughter yelling over the emergency alarms that were loudly proclaiming they were flying into a meteor storm.

That left Paulette speechless and unsure whether to cackle along with him. The ship shook as if it was trapped in trembling hands. Then everything was as still and quiet as a corpse. Paulette and Clayton shared a look of dread. As seconds went by, they waited for a sign as to what was going on. The lights were on, and all systems seemed to be operating. They should have been able to hear the crew’s footsteps on the deck above them but there was not a sound.

After what felt like hours, they could hear someone coming down the stairs. The computer gave no warning about intruders but under the circumstances, they could assume nothing. The duo clutched their semi-automatic laser shooters. As the footsteps grew closer Clayton's heartbeat raced at warp speed. By the time, the door leading to the engine room creaked open the two of them had already drawn their weapons.

A half-second before they could fire upon the unsuspecting prey, they put the laser guns down. The only thing saving the person from being turned into Swiss cheese was the sound of jingling bells " Silver I have half a mind to put a hole in you. What is the bloody matter with you? Are you trying to scare me to death?!" Paulette fumed a squeak of fear hidden in her voice and a slight quiver in her hand as she returned her shooter to her holster.

Silver tilted his head in their direction. For a tense moment, Silver's pale blue eyes seemed to pierce through her. When he, at last, regained the ability to speak he spoke in the raspy whisper of a man who had been to hell and back. "The captain... has been wounded."

In that instant, the world froze around Clayton. Baker was wounded. When? How? Who was responsible for it? Was Baker going to live? All these questions and many more overtook his panicked mind like an army trampling the ground as they marched to battle. He scoured Silver's face for any sign that he was joking. However, much to his horror there had been no devilish gleam in the seasoned navigator’s eyes or a repressed devious smirk. There was none to be found... His stare was vacant, even his rich brown skin seemed to pale as a result of his destress.

The next thing Clayton knew, he was standing in the middle of the deck pushing his way through a crowd as he fought his way to the nursing office. The head doctor Helena was not thrilled about his intrusion but she had anticipated it. Whenever the captain was hurt Clayton was close behind. She met him in front of the patients’ quarters and led him to the private room set aside for Baker. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he will make full recovery. At the moment he needs to rest."

Clayton tried desperately to listen to what Helena was telling him, but his frenzied mind could just hear Baker lost blood. Baker had lost so much he was willingly laying in a hospital bed. If Baker was an average human such an event would not have been notable, but he wasn't regular. "Have you been listening to me?" Helena reprimanded.

Clayton snapped out of his daze. "Sorry doc," Clayton murmured remorsefully. A light blush turned his cheeks pink.

"Oh, just get in there already." Helena encouraged with an eye roll. She moved to the side just before Clayton barreled into the room. Helena smiled inwardly, Baker had nearly bled to death, and he was still the luckiest bastard alive.

Clayton closed the door as Helena went down a corridor. He allowed his heart to steady as Baker's eyes fluttered open. His knees went weak with relief, and he sunk into the chair by Baker's bed. "Are you going to tell me what happened to you?" Clayton asked his captain his voice quiet as a mouse.

Baker's eyes dimmed as if he was staring into an abyss. Baker shook his head like he was shaking off chains. "We don't have to talk about that..." Baker croaked struggling to compel the answer through his dry throat. "Right now, I just want to hold you," Baker begged reaching out for Clayton's hand.

Clayton opened his mouth to argue but he decided to drop the subject for the time being. "Alright," he whispered with a small sigh as he crawled into bed. Both of them fell to sleep in moments.

The solitary reprieve ended abruptly when they awoke to a knock on the door. Baker tried to sit up, but Clayton shot him a glare that communicated, you are not going anywhere. Baker obeyed the unspoken order.

Clayton watched him out of the corner of his eye. Baker started to laugh but it was stifled by the protests of his broken ribs. Clayton rolled his eyes opening the door. "Good morning," Dr. Helena greeted. "I was going to ask if our charming captain was conscious. However, if he has enough zeal to test your patience, I've been worried about nothing."

Her playful jab was met with a twinkle of approval from Clayton's drowsy eyes. "Yes, Clayton nodded solemnly. "The old man will be around for many years to drive us all up the wall."

"Damn right!" Baker howled with pride and the spark that comes from a need for justice. Both crewmembers snickered like children in response. "I can hear you two," the captain drawled.

"Oh good," Helena chirped with delight. "My favorite patient is awake," Helena noted. "At the risk of asking a stupid question, do you need anything for the pain?" The doctor asked the inquiry slipping with the ease of predictability. She peeked around the corner twirling her long black hair in her fingertips with a glint in her grey eyes.

"The only thing I need is a bottle of rum and my ship in working order," Baker growled with vigor.

"As your doctor, I cannot in good conscience recommend you consume alcohol in this condition. Then again who am to get in the way of your fun." She finished a huff like a parent exhausted after a long day of trying to wrangle their hyper toddler. Helena didn't have time to waste debating with him. So, she refocused her attention on Clayton. "Paulette told me to tell you that we will be docking at a repair station any minute. She’s going to need an extra pair of hands when we get there. "

Clayton nodded sharply, "I'll be down to help her once we arrive," Clayton assured. With her job done Helena left the men to their own devices.

She was correct the journey was brief. Yet, time seemed to all but cease to move. Baker stared blankly at the ceiling. The events of the day had inflicted as much if not more agony on his mind than his body. He felt like his psyche had been ravaged then discarded. The single solitary that thing tethered him to the world was Clayton's hand in his.

When they reached the destination, Baker was snoozing unaware that Clayton had gone down to the engine room. "Paulette?" Clayton called walking down the stairs.

"Here," Paulette answered as Clayton came around the corner. She was welding wires back together. She never took her eyes away from the assignment at hand. "Toss this in the trash shoot," Paulette stated passing him a chunk of burned and melted wiring.

"I'm more than a little caught off guard." Clayton snorted relieved she was not hurling broken pieces at him. "Last time I spoke to you I got the impression you were on the verge of scrapping this ship."

"You were absolutely right but the damage wasn't as extensive as I thought." Paulette hummed as if she was thinking out loud, "we will be ace in a week."

Clayton furrowed his brow, "Paulette, you have things under control. So, why did you ask for me to come here?"

"I am allowed to worry about my little odd group of misfits," Paulette remarked flashing a grin. "So, how are you love?" It was a loaded question. Yet, her soft and disinterested tone lessened the impact.

Clayton sat on the floor with his back against the wall. "Baker is shutting me out... He won't tell me what happened..." Clayton paused throwing his hands up in the air. "He's hardly speaking at all..."

"The bloke has had a bewildering day. Perhaps, let him take a moment to collect his thoughts." Paulette commented with all the sarcasm she could muster.

"What if he doesn't come around?" He persisted

"He will," she exhaled. "Now, scamper off, you are distracting me." Paulette scowled waving her hand as if to brush him away.

"You told me you needed my help," he argued. If looks could kill Clayton would have dropped dead faster than rocks plummeting to the ocean floor. Needless to say, he made himself scarce.

He returned to Baker's room and climbed into bed. Baker purred snuggling up to him and embracing him. "Easy..." Clayton cautioned as Baker's hand slipped underneath his shirt. "You have to rest."

"Don't want rest...Want you..." Baker slurred through the shroud of sleep. " I Was gone... for so long." He whimpered incoherently.

"Gone?" Clayton echoed in disbelief. "What are you talking about? We have been together on the ship for months.

Baker shook his head. "That doesn't matter anymore. The only thing I care about is marrying you after I even the score with the assholes who landed me in this bed.

"Marry me?" Clayton gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Will you marry me?" Baker asked as if he didn't hear him. Clayton nodded unable to speak while his heart raised.

@bauliya Thnx

@theworldofprompts

The pirate asks their lover for their hand in marriage

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 72 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Miss Fame and Raja appeared on morning TV, and Miss Fame was visibly irritated with Courtney.

This Chapter: Violet stresses, Sutan orders some dinner, Katya chills, Raven preens, and Courtney’s Day From Hell continues.

***

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

“Hello?!?!”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I-” Courtney picked up her bags, prepared to head into the building. She looked at the cab driver, wondering if she should attempt to get a receipt for her expense report or just say fuck it. Jaida was pretty forgiving with petty cash records if the ride was less than fifty dollars.

“Do you know what happened when I got dressed for the investor lunch, Courtney? Thank god Raja was here, she’s the one who spotted it!”

Courtney pushed the door to the cab closed with her hip, trying to follow Miss Fame’s thought process, her heavy purse slung over one shoulder and laptop bag over the other.

“Spotted…?”

“A rip! There was a rip in the seam of the dress! Is that how you wanted me to show up? Looking like an absolute disaster?!”

“I-” Courtney scrambled into the lobby as quickly as she could to avoid the drizzling rain, glancing for a moment at the elevators before deciding that getting cut off wasn’t worth the risk. She opened the door to the stairwell and began trudging up, cursing the heels she’d chosen today and wondering if it would be too awful and unsanitary to just take them off and go barefoot.

“Next time you pick something up, you need to use your brain and your eyes and check the garment! Always check everything! Don’t trust anyone, do you hear me?!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“These kinds of careless mistakes are unacceptable. You’re not new anymore, you’ve been here for months. Violet isn’t around to protect you, you have to think, think!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“Luckily for you, I had my outfit from the show this morning, so it wasn’t an absolute disaster but if this ever happens again, I won’t be forgiving.”

“I understand, Miss.”

“This meeting better go flawlessly. I simply cannot take more incompetence today!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“That’s all.”

And with that, the phone clicked off. Courtney sighed, sagging against the banister before continuing on her way. Luckily, she hadn’t climbed too many flights, so she could still catch the elevator before she turned entirely into a sweaty, disheveled mess.

***

Violet heard her phone vibrate, and she looked down on the floor, her bag carefully placed under her desk. She abandoned her computer, several tabs with pictures from past Met balls open, and reached for her phone, messages from Sutan ticking in.

SUTAN: Any thoughts on dinner?

SUTAN: I could go for italian

SUTAN: I know a place that has a great fettuccine al salmone that I think you’ll like

Violet read the messages, a smile on her lips. Sutan was probably stuck in traffic or watching a presentation somewhere, her boyfriend often texting her like this when he was bored.

VIOLET: That sounds good

SUTAN: Great! I’ll order. Bottle of red too.

SUTAN: Feeling like dessert? Raja texted that she’s picking up Dominique Ansel for her and Raven and I’m jealous. The Italian place has a fantastic torta tenerina

SUTAN: It’s a chocolate cake if you haven’t had it

SUTAN: It’ll be just like our second date ;-)

Violet felt an instant blush rise in her cheeks, the memory of falling off the couch hitting her like a freight train. Sutan had been so kind about it, the man just laughing when Violet had messed everything up. She knew she was insanely lucky that Sutan was so calm and collected, that he rolled with the punches and took most things with a grain of salt, but she couldn’t help but worry if he was too relaxed.

Violet had meant to push it aside, to stop thinking about it, but Maxwell’s words from yesterday were still playing around in her head, the small comment about her sex life with Sutan starting an avalanche of worries.

Because Maxwell was wrong.

Violet did not, in fact, suck Sutan’s dick. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, wasn’t that she found it gross or unappealing, it had just never… happened.

She didn’t know how she’d bring it up, what she’d say or what she’d do, but she knew that she wanted to talk to Sutan about it, and make sure that everything was okay.

VIOLET: Can’t wait

***

“Hey, Court, how are you?” Jaida asked, entering the conference room, holding up a flash drive with their investor presentation.

“Jaida! Oh thank god, is that the final?” Courtney asked, shifting from one foot to the other. She stood next to Shawn from IT, who was crouched over the projector.

“It is, it is...at least until Miss Fame texts me with another round of helpful suggestions,” Jaida said with a grin, and Courtney closed her eyes briefly.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she warned.

Jaida handed over the flash drive, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Poor thing looked very much on the edge, her little face screwed up anxiously, a crease in her brow where no one her age should have one.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. And I’m gonna stay here with you until it looks perfect.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said, her face softening into a grateful smile. “I know how to handle all the refreshments and stuff, but we don’t usually do these kind of multimedia things. I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess it up.”

“You won’t. And anyway, I’ll be right here. I can always tell you to go back a slide.”

“Right...yeah, that’s true.”

“How’s that look?” Shawn asked, and Jaida gave him a thumbs-up.

“Perfecto. Thank you, sir.”

“Alright, great. Court, you need anything else? ‘Cause apparently marketing is having some kind of emergency with their calendars not synching.”

“No, I think I got it,” Courtney said, sounding not at all confident.

“We got it,” Jaida said, sitting down beside her to look at the laptop that controlled the screen. “Why don’t I give you a basic rundown of what I’m gonna say, and then we can even do some rehearsing.”

“Sure!” Courtney said, smiling brightly.

Jaida took her through the whole presentation, then stood up to do a run-through, making sure they worked out a signal for when she was moving to the next slide, and double-checking the investor packets to make sure all the references to page numbers were accurate.

“Alright...I think we’re good. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Courtney said, standing and walking towards the refreshment table, lining all the drinks up in neat pyramids. “You can take a break, I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaida said. “But I could use a little breather before they arrive. I’ll be back in 30.”

“Okay. Um, also…”

Jaida turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Well...it’s just...um, some people were talking about their bonuses, and my last paycheck was just my regular salary. So I just wasn’t sure how that all worked.”

“Oh.” Jaida sighed to herself. Of course Miss Fame hadn’t filled her in. Dammit. “Well, usually we only give end of year bonuses to people who’ve worked for the company for six months or longer.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, sorry.” Courtney said, looking disappointed but not surprised, and Jaida felt awful.

Courtney’s salary was a pittance--barely enough to be off the street in New York. Jaida knew that, and she knew how much of a difference even a few hundred dollars would have made to her. But Miss Fame had insisted that the rules were there for a reason, and it would be a bad precedent to set to overrule them for her own office. It was pure nonsense--all employee bonuses were at the discretion of the department heads and always had been.

Clearly, Miss Fame had simply not wanted to reward her for whatever reason. At the time, Jaida didn’t think it was worth the headache to push back, but looking at her sad little face, Jaida couldn’t help feeling like maybe she should have.

“But hey,” Jaida said, giving a rueful smile, “It gives you someone to look forward to next year, right?”

“Yeah.” Courtney returned her smile, trying her best to recover. “Sorry to bother you about it.”

“It’s no bother. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better answer for you,” Jaida told her, guilt still eating away at her. “I’ll see you at 3, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaida.”

***

“And there we go!” Raven looked up from her phone, Juju standing behind her, a big smile on her face. “What do we think?”

Juju held up a mirror, showing Raven the back of her head. She had gotten a keratin treatment, her thick black locks cascading down her back like a silky waterfall, the ends cut ramrod straight, her December touchups going exactly according to plan.

“It looks great,” Raven smiled, running her fingers through her hair, the strands beyond soft to the touch. She always got her hair done by Juju, Raven’s salon visits an excellent opportunity to chat with her best friend without kids around. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Juju smiled. “I’ll have someone over shortly to fill up your lashes. Can I get you anything?”

“A Pellegrino please.” Raven held up her glass, Juju leaving her to stay in her chair. She didn’t really want the water, a caramel macchiato or a hot cocoa much more weather appropriate, but she had already had her first fitting for Galactica’s closing look, which meant she had to stay true to that size.

Raven looked at herself in her mirror, turning her head side to side, her brows already threaded and perfect. She hadn’t told Sutan, or even Raja, but she had started to get the tiniest botox injections, her day starting off with a visit to the doctor. It was just 5 units here, another 10 there, to make sure her glabellar lines didn’t show up and that her nasalis lines stayed on the side of cute, instead of wrinkly and gross.

Raven pulled some of her hair over her shoulder, twisting her waist to catch the best lighting as she held up her phone, snapping a pic for her Instagram, a grin spreading on her lips at how hot she looked.

***

Courtney flexed her fingers and toes, trying to keep them from going numb. Her brain already felt like mush. They were going into hour three of the investor meeting. At first, she’d found it incredibly interesting, how the new fund they were raising would help with their 2015 growth, allowing them to expand into several Asian markets and open up a whole new stream of revenue. She’d taken a few business classes in college, and while math was never her strong suit, the financial charts and projections were fascinating.

However, after several hours of this, coupled with the fact that she’d been working since 6 am, and the fact that nearly everyone else in the entire company had already left to start their winter vacations, Courtney was slowly losing her interest in, not just the meeting, but the fashion industry period.

She glanced out the window. A flurry of snow was swirling past the window--it would probably melt before it reached the ground, but it made her long to be tucked under a blanket with Bianca. She picked up her personal phone to discreetly check the messages.

BIANCA: Still getting out early?

COURTNEY: We’ll see. :’(

BIANCA: LOL, poor baby. I’m heading home now, tell me when you’re done there.

COURTNEY: I will. Can’t wait to see you...counting the seconds...<3

Courtney sighed softly to herself. The drone of voices was starting to sound surreal to her, like she was under water. She checked the time again, wishing that they would wrap things up. By the sound of it, though, no one was in any hurry to leave. Maybe I’ll die here…

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts and she stood up straight, back against the wall.

“Yes Miss?”

The fury in Miss Fame’s eyes told her that she’d missed a cue, and she racked her brain for what it could have been. They were done with the presentation, and she’d laid all the refreshments out, as well as clearing the empty plates and replacing them with clean ones twice already.

Miss Fame glared at her harder, eyes darting to the box near her feet, and she jumped, realizing her mistake. Miss Fame wanted her to hand out the glossy photo books of the history of Galactica that were on standby, just in case. She reached down and pulled a big stack out of the box, then quickly began handing them out.

“If you’ll open your books,” Fame said, going back to the meeting with a charming smile, “You’ll see some photos of our humble beginnings at New York Fashion week, 2002.”

I will definitely die here, Courtney thought, trudging back towards her spot against the wall.

***

Winter break was here, and Katya absolutely loved it. She had slept in, enjoying a slow morning making pancakes in her pajamas, listening to Christmas music and dancing around, since she was completely alone.

Well, not completely, at least not anymore. She couldn’t feel the baby yet, and probably wouldn’t for a few more weeks, the app Trixie had downloaded informing her that she should be able to sense movement from week 20.

Katya took a sip of her hot cocoa, a Hallmark Christmas movie playing on the TV. She had cleaned up the apartment, making sure to get all of the laundry out of the way so everything was nice and tidy for the upcoming vacation.

She picked Pearl’s bomber jacket back up, the scent of her cigarettes clinging to the fabric. She had noticed that there was a tear while checking it, Pearl often forgetting the most random things in her pockets, so she had taken it upon herself to sew it back together.

She knew she didn't need to, but she liked doing things for her friend, the small project perfect for a relaxing day with nothing important on the agenda.

***

“Raja!” Raven couldn’t keep in the shout of happiness as she finally finally heard the front door open and click shut. She rushed to the hallway, making sure not to trip over her dress in her heels. “You’re home!”

“Hey Princess,” Raja smiled, taking off her coat, specks of snow in her long hair, revealing one of her office suits underneath. “You look perfect.”

“Mmh?” Raven grinned, her fiancée’s eyes sweeping over her body, appreciating the brand new outfit she had put on. “You think?”

“I know,” Raja hung her jacket up, and Raven stepped up, wrapping herself in Raja’s arms, a moment of complete peace washing over her.

Raja was home for the holidays, almost two wonderful weeks ahead of them with no work, minimal obligations and parties except New Year’s, all followed by their annual trip to Aspen.

It was Raven’s favorite time of year, for the simple reason that she had Raja’s undivided attention, and that was why she had picked New Year’s Eve as their wedding date. It was a little stressful that she only had about a year left to plan, but she knew that the night would be perfect, no matter what.

“Did you remember dessert?” Raven looked up at Raja, the fact that she was still taller than her even in heels insanely hot.

“Of course I remembered dessert,” Raja grinned, the Dominique Ansel box on the little hallway table, “I got your favorites.”

“I love you,” Raven smiled, getting up on her toes to plant a kiss on Raja’s lips.

“Are you talking to me or the pastries?”

“You,” Raven rolled her eyes, Raja as always teasing her, “...and the pastries.”

***

“So, what are we in the mood for?” Sutan asked. He sat down on the couch, placing the chocolate cake and the two forks on the table before grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “A Christmas movie?”

He waited for a beat, and then another, no reply coming.

It was normal for Violet to be on the quiet side, common for her to come home from work and need time to unwind and reset before she could be present, his girlfriend not saying much during dinner.

What wasn’t normal was for Violet to ignore him outright, and Sutan couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Violet?” He sat up, looking over at her. She was tapping her fingers against her leg, looking straight ahead, her lip between her teeth. “Is everything okay?”

“Does it bother you that I don’t suck dick?”

“What?” Sutan spluttered, nearly choking on air, the question taking him by complete surprise.

“Does it bother you?” Violet twisted her body, her knees knocking against his as she turned towards him.

“Why are you asking?” Sutan knew it wasn’t what he should focus on, but he hadn’t expected Violet to ask that, hadn’t figured that a sex thing was what had twisted her into a knot, though the direct and blunt approach was exactly her.

“Answer my question.”

“I’m very satisfied with our sex life.” Sutan turned the TV off, commercials in the background not what he needed at the moment. “So no. It doesn’t bother me.” He was being completely sincere, the lack of Violet performing oral not something he had thought about except in brief fantasies here and there.

But it was just that, a fantasy.

A tantalizing and sexy fantasy for sure, but when it came down to it, not getting blow jobs was a miniscule price to pay in exchange for Violet, Sutan much more concerned with making sure that his girlfriend was having a good time, and that she was into what they did in bed.

“I simply assumed you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Violet bit her lip, and Sutan moved closer, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

“Maxwell made a comment at work.” Violet pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at Sutan’s chest instead of his face.

“And?” Sutan reached out, gently putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I just figured, I never really…” Violet sighed, tugging at the edge of her skirt, Sutan rubbing his thumb up and down. “Offered, and I hadn’t considered…”

“Violet. Good sex, is sex that makes everyone feel good, and I like, no, I love, making you feel good.” Sutan smirked, watching the prettiest blush bloom on Violet’s cheeks, but this time, she didn’t shy away, didn’t look down, instead, she met his gaze straight on, their eyes locking together.

“I want that too. To make you feel good.”

“Is this your way of offering?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, “To experiment with blow jobs I mean.”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “I think I could enjoy it with you.”

“If you want it,” Sutan smiled. “I want it.”

***

As Courtney helped Miss Fame into her coat, she could feel her will to live come surging back, the end of the day so close now that she could taste it. She’d already brought the many gifts from Miss Fame’s friends and associates downstairs to her car and in a remarkable display of generosity, Miss Fame had even handed Courtney one of the bottles of Veuve to take home herself.

“Merry Christmas, Miss!” Courtney exclaimed happily as she settled back down at her desk to take care of her last few tasks of the year.

“Yes. Make sure that those sketches get to Trixie before you leave. Goodnight.”

“Sure thing!” Courtney called after her, waving as she rounded the corner. The sketches. She knew she had the sketches earlier. Where were they?

She searched the mostly empty surface of her desk, stomach lurching when she realized what must have happened. The cab. She left them in the cab. Her sunny smile dissolved, color draining from Courtney’s face as she realized how absolutely fucked she was.

Miss Fame almost never did her own sketches any more. These were rare and precious; Courtney recalled how angry she’d been earlier in the day at simply the thought of a crease in the pages.

How could Courtney have been so utterly careless?

Original sketches from Miss Fame of Galactica floating around a random NYC taxi was a nightmare. She wracked her brain, trying to remember the cab company, and found her head absolutely empty of any details, devoid of anything that could help.

And of course, she didn’t have a receipt, because she’d been in such a rush to get upstairs, which meant no evidence, nothing to go off of.

She frantically searched for the numbers of any local cab companies and began the tedious task of calling them to track down the priceless unmarked envelope.

Nearly two hours later, throat hoarse from crying, she had to finally admit defeat.

Nobody had seen the envelope, and the chance of her getting a call back with good news was looking slimmer and slimmer as the dispatches closed for the day. She picked up her phone, knowing that she’d be seeing a whole bunch of increasingly concerned messages from Bianca.

There was no way she could face her tonight. Not after she’d fucked up so immensely, done something that was sure to make her boss more furious than she’d ever seen her. There was a small chance that Bianca herself wouldn’t be mad, that she might even be sympathetic--but Courtney knew that she absolutely didn’t deserve that.

Just to be certain, she waited until she was on the subway before responding to her messages, texting a simple ‘I can’t make it’ and then adding ‘I’m so sorry’ before shoving the phone back in her bag and riding the rest of the way to the Bronx with her head in her hands, cursing herself over and over.

[marsmoonqueen]

I would die for and with you

WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Bucky being mean in the beginning, and I think thats all.

Prompt / Summary: Red helps Winter discover who he really is.

Note: It starts a little angsty.  Also, this is the third part of “Red” and “ I could take you anywhere you want”. But you dont have to read those to understand this one.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Her scream was the first thing he heard as he entered the apartment. He ignored her, hoping she would drop the matter. “Oh, no. Oh, sir no!” She said as ran from her spot, in the sofa, to him, taking his metal arm with both hands. “You cannot do this! You can’t walk away in the middle of the night, not comeback for an entire day until morning and then ignore me!” With an abrupt but calculated move, he shacked his arm from her grip.

         The young man who had rescued her months before looked at her, dead in the eye, and went straight to her room. Initially, he slept in the guest’s room but given the fact that he had nightmares every night and she helped him come back to real life, they had started to sleep together some weeks ago.

         “Winter don’t do this to me man! Open the door!” She yelled when she realized he has locked it. “Look, I know our research has not gone the way we wanted but-”

         “Go away (y/n), this is not about that” He didn’t need to yell to make a statement.

         “(y/n)? So, I am not Red anymore?” Not a word. “I am asking you nothing more than to tell me when you go out! You can’t just walk out, research purposes or not, and expect me not to be worried”

         “Why do you care?” His voice sounded rougher this time.

         “Why-? Why do I care? Why do I care?!” (y/n) screamed indignant. “Because you are my bloody friend! That’s what friend do, we worry and care for each other! You would feel the same if I did what you do… you would care if I was gone” The young woman didn’t yell her last sentence, suddenly too tired, maybe it was acknowledging the fact that she cared what drained her in the moment; instead, she let herself slip off to the floor, her back touching the door.

         “No” His response came after a minute of silence.

         “No what?” She had her head between her arms, that were resting on her knees.

         “I wouldn’t”

         “You wouldn’t what boy? Speak clearly” (y/n) asked, now irritated, resting her head against the door.

         In a swift move the door was open, and with her back in the floor she saw those blue eyes she liked above her. “I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t care if you were gone”. She didn’t know how to react. Her heart stopped. Dead silence in the room. She sat on the floor and crawled close to her room’s exit.

         “That’s not true” She whispered, again.

         “Yes, it is, now… be gone” And with that last words Winter, her friend, closed the door in her face, and locked it again.

         “Very well…”

After her last words (y/n), confused and heartbroken, took her backpack, a bottle of water and left the building. She decided that a walk was what she needed, but to where… she didn’t know.

         Her feet took her to the nearest park, first. She spent good four hours thinking, watching her shoes, the kids, the animals, anything. But everything reminded her of him, and the probability of him not being there when she came back home. In the park, she noticed a kind of parade, it was a commemoration to every war that was fought in the planet.

        War.

        She was on a war with herself at the moment, how accurate. To pass the time, she decided to investigate. Different countries, different wars, different motives. Independence, revolution… everything seemed the same for her at that moment though.

        (y/n) was about to go to a café or something when she heard a group of girls gush about something.

        “Oh, good lord! He was super handsome!” One of them said, holding a pamphlet against her chest. Her and her friends were in front of a large column that had ‘world war II’ in red, and below it ‘USA heroes’, there were other columns of the same war but with the different countries´ ‘heroes’.

        At one of her history classes, (y/n) had hear that there was a WW2 soldier that looked vaguely like Harry Styles, so following her curiosity, she decided to investigate. She went from Germany to Mexico, looking for her favorite singer’s doppelgänges. Sadly, she found nothing of the sort. But after two hours and a half, she came to stand in front of the column where the girls were before, and hoping they were gushing about someone with green eyes and curly hair, she gave a look to the column.

        Soon, she found the man the girls were blushing about, and went speechless. There, in front of her, were the answers of all her questions, of all Winter’s questions. In front of her, was a picture of a young handsome sergeant, with beautiful blue eyes, short brown hair and a boyish grin.

        “He was a handsome one, wasn’t he?” An old lady surprised her. (y/n) turner to her. She looked like a teacher, and had a pretty green dress and a lovely smile.

        “Yeah, very handsome” She said, but the old lady’s eyes weren’t on her any longer.

        “A great man, also. He lived and died for his best friend; you know?”

        “No, not really, I am not familiarized with his story” (y/n) kept her eyes on her.

        “Oh really?” She gazed at her with disappointment “Quite a popular this one, at least in the states; by the look in your eyes I would have thought that you knew his story”

        “Why? Why is he so famous I mean?” Instead of answering her question, the old woman pointed with her jaw at some pamphlet on a table. “Thank you” (y/n)’s voice was a little painted with sarcasm. On the table were a lot of pamphlets from the different soldiers, but guided by his eyes (y/n) found his easily.

        “The kids did a great job with his and captain’s research” The woman said, giving a last look to the column and walking away.

        “Captain’s? What captain?” But the old lady got closer to a bunch of college kids and started talking with them.

 (y/n) wasted no more time and started to read every single detail of the paper, it was long, but after finishing it, she realized that the captain’s, was probably longer. There was an excitement around her, and she laughed sterically. All the answers she was looking for were there, in front of her.

         “Winter” she whispered and looked to the sky. It was late, pretty, pretty late, so she did the first rational thing that came in mind. She ran.

         She ran to her apartment excited to share her discoveries with her friend. She passed trees, dogs, nearly crashed into people; she heard the sky roar, a storm was coming, but she couldn’t seem to care. She had to catch him. She was praying that he was there, still there.

        At this point it didn’t matter that he didn’t want to see her. It didn’t matter if he was gone after that. What mattered was the information she had about him. He had to know, he deserved to know. Twenty minutes later, she saw her building, many of her neighbors’ lights were off. But her flat’s wasn’t. They were all on, and there was a figure standing in the window, looking for something. Looking for her. She ran faster as the rain started to pour on her.

        The receptionist gave her the dirtiest glare when he saw her running in his halls, but she didn’t care, she took the stair to the 4th floor, and nearly tacked her door. Inside, Winter was ready to jump at whoever came in with such force, but she was quicker and ran to him, crashing with the sofa in her way.

         Winter’s arms cached her, before she could hit the floor.

         “Red! Are you alright? Is someone following you?” He asked, worried. (y/n) contemplated him for a second. He had a black tank top and lose joggers, his hair fell around his face; there were scars in his right arm and his left was metal, but without a doubt he was the man from that photo. “Hey, hey, what is it doll? You are freezing” He whispered, moving her hair from her face, and tucking her closer to him in a try to keep her warm.

         “I know who you are… James” she whispered, their foreheads touching.

         “What?” His voice came out broken.

         “Look at this young man… does he look familiar to you?” (y/n) took the paper out of her pants pocket and gave it to him. James’ eyes filled with tears.

         “James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes… Bucky, Bucky!” His eyes lighted up “That’s how that man called me! The blonde! Bucky!” James was excited

         “That should be Steve Rogers, Captain America” (y/n)’s excitement matched his. They looked at each other and laughed loud, and after a few seconds, Bucky made their foreheads touch again. Bucky’s smile fell.

         “I’m sorry about this afternoon Red, I-” (y/n) interrupted him.

         “Don’t worry, I know how your nightmares make you behave sometimes” Bucky blushed, ashamed. “I won’t say I told you, but I would like to hear you say it…Bucky”

         “Say what? That I would worry?” Bucky asked unsure, his friend nodded embarrassed; he took her face between his hands “I worried today when after a while I came out of our room and you weren’t here; I worried because I thought you wouldn’t come back; and when I saw you running as if your life depended on it, I worried even more, because I care about you, because you are my fucking best friend and I would die for and with you”. He said they were friends, but their lips were touching.

         (y/n) swallowed, and looking at him in the eye said: “You are my bloody best friend and I would die for and with you”. Bucky smiled and hugged his friend, and they stayed like that, wet an all, until the sun shined through their window.

@jessyballet​

[honkster]

Okay so I did miss a few things

Mainly stuff that either I didn’t think were important enough to address or I just didn’t think of.

Let’s get to it.

1. Techno betraying Tommy.

2. Ghosty bois coming back.

3. Tommy and Quackity as ab*se survivors.

<_><_><_>

I try to be as un-biased as I can whenever I say “From a writing perspective”, I kind of disassociate and look at the story how I would write it if I had to. You know, purely analysing the characters without the attachment I feel for them as a viewer.

But I don’t have to do that to say that Techno is not going to betray Tommy.

I get the angst – oh do I get the angst. I’m a fan of angst, I used to write only it for a while.

But Dream. You know how much Techno cares about Dream?

He’d rather read his donations than not risk Dream’s wrath at avoiding the admittance of Tommy in his house.

Techno has shown that he cares more for Tommy than he fears Dream (Fear is probably the wrong word here. Neutrality as he bides his time until he can strike – much more Blade. Because no matter what, Dream is just a temporary ally to Techno, much like what he started to view Pogtopia as.) He is shielding Tommy from him, he is reluctantly reminded the he owes Dream a favor, he dismisses his role as Lycomedes in this myth that’s so accurate to the story. Not even once in the streams Tommy and Techno did together (and the subsequent Techno or Tommy solo streams) did it seem that Techno was even considering a Tommy and Dream meetup. Yes, the favor is looking to be another Chekhov's gun, much like the TNT under L’manburg, but whoever said it means that Techno will succumb to Dream?

When did we decide that Dream cashing in his favor with Techno doesn’t mean that the pig will take that chance to betray Dream?

When did we decide that Dream cashing in his favor with Techno means that Dream trusts Techno unconditionally and won’t try to betray Techno?

Dream and Techno are in a unique stalemate currently. Techno can’t harm Dream, not when he has creative mode, and for Dream Techno is far more useful as an ally. That favor that Dream is holding over his head? That is the one-up he has on Techno. Until, perhaps, Techno pulls a Spirit and decides that Dream doesn’t control him…

Is this better anxiety than angsting over Techno potentially turning Tommy in? :)

(Bonus: I’m pretty sure that Techno and Tommy are even when talking about betrayals. Tommy established a new government in front of Techno, Techno blew the government up. Techno isn’t going to betray Tommy because he’s still salty. Tommy was slightly petty when he huddled under Techno’s house, but he seems to have gotten over that and now it’s just sibling banter.

They betrayed each other and then were angry at each for it. They’re even, stop the angst.)

<_><_><_>

Another thing I keep seeing despite everything…

The Ghosty bois returning.

Schlatt through possession, Wilbur through some method Philza may find months after the moment he first wrote it in a book.

My answer is… What’s the point?

Okay, you bring back Schlatt. What’s he gonna do, re-establish Manburg?

As if.

So he possessed Quackity/Tubbo. Again, what’s he gonna do? L’manburg is not the same thing that it was before, when Schlatt and Wilbur first found their power. It’s not a place where words mean more than weapons, where no armor is worn yet wars are won. Since L’manburg’s pacifist dictators have died/been changed to more violent ways, L’manburg has adapted to the landscape of the server and become just like every other faction – fighting wars with weapons.

So again, what would happen if Schlatt returned, in one form or another? The moment someone realizes what happened, he gets taken down. No one likes Schlatt, no one is on his side, everyone would stab him in his weak heart and twist the blade to “just make sure” he is truly dead. No one will rally behind him, he will have no power. You don’t gotta worry about that ghosty boi.

Wilbur? Well, if we dive into meta and what the cc himself has said, it’s going to take more than just a totem of undying to bring him back. And from a writing perspective, Ghostbur needs to come to terms with himself. Him just forgetting the things that he did, the people he harmed and just being wholesome – that’s not the end of his arc. It’s not even the middle. Ghostbur has a long way to go to be at peace with himself and stop haunting the server, to move on to the afterlife.

Him being brought back to life, to return to what he tried to forget, and then most definitely being killed again, quickly or after he’s able to do more damage, returning to his Ghostbur form… Well, that can do two things.

1. It could, possibly help him come to terms with Alivebur’s actions, being so suddenly dropped into his life again and forced to confront the trauma of it all. It could, possibly, maybe, slightly start him on the path to being at peace again.

2. It resets his progress so far.

I know which option is more interesting, more… character-developing.

Sadly, that one is the less likely option.

More trauma doesn’t help deal with previous trauma. Things would have to go a very specific way for Ghostbur being brought back to life to be actually helpful to him. Ghostbur isn’t an amnesiac, not in the way where his memories were just given a soft reset and his only job is to find things that would help him unlock them again. He’s a ghost, no one can fully understand how he works and what he needs, and how he may act if he is brought back to life after being dead for so long.

Not even another ghost.

Who’s to say that Schlatt, if he ever appeared in-character, in ghost form, isn’t just as confused as Ghostbur? Who’s to say he isn’t “traumatized enough” for selective memory? Who’s to say that Schlatt hasn’t moved on like Ghostbur hasn’t been able to?

Wilbur’s not gonna come back soon, if at all. His arc, coming to terms with making L’manburg the way it is now, has relevance to the current events happening (especially since L’manburg’s death seems to be inching closer and closer, and Ghostbur seems to be only related to it, out of all the things in the server.) but it has very little plot-changing importance. Who’s going to listen to the ghost of the man that made this mess happen in the first place? Definitely not the people making similar mistakes to him!

<_><_><_>

Oh I don’t like talking about ab*se. I’ve had enough of Dream and his manipulation of Tommy, it’s why I hated the bastard so much.

But this? Quackity and Tommy having the same mixed feelings towards their manipulator, a deep hatred and also a deep attachment, resulting in just a lot of confusion whenever the bad guy in question is brought up?

Yeah I got nothing.

Mainly because Tommy and Quackity haven’t interacted in that way just yet. Most people, in-character, don’t realize what Quackity went through (that’s a problem for a lot of the characters though, how their trauma is almost invisible, but very loud in terms of their actions.) or at least don’t realize that Quackity wants Schlatt back. Cause no one wants Schlatt back – what are you, crazy?

It is definitely an interesting parallel. How both of them were manipulated, then suddenly left the manipulator, how both of them were introduced to different ways of coping. Tommy with Techno, someone who cares about him and is determined to get revenge on their behalf, someone who is just sensitive enough to realize that you shouldn’t do certain things when talking to the traumatized person. Quackity with The Butcher Army and El Rapids, being given an outlet for his anger and confusion, a way to hide the pain he feels and focus on something entirely else, something he can actually understand and not question endlessly as he slowly goes insane. A way to do good, to try and do good things for other people, or at least fight the bad ones, even though you are utterly baffled at what is going on inside you.

...I’ve been dancing around this for a long time but uh… From experience, both of those ways are valid.

Listen, listen. Facing your trauma, going on the tough path of healing from it and coming out a different person, one not affected by whatever was done to you – that’s good. That is a good recipe for moving on to bigger and better things, this should be the path taken.

But (not) realizing your trauma, and instead deciding to flourish in spite of your manipulator, becoming stronger than them or even fighting them (or whoever you blame for your trauma) head on and WINNNING, purely out of spite and anger that you were actually that weak or that you didn’t notice what they were doing to you, remembering the things that you thought were normal and now being horrified at what your life was like…

The whole SMP needs therapy. They all need to have a sit-down, and a talk, and come to certain conclusions about themselves and whoever wronged them, and repeat that for a few days (weeks, months maybe). They all need to learn healthy ways to cope.

But this is the Curse. The Author’s Curse.

Therapy is boring.

Yes, we love these characters. Because we love them, we would much rather see them healthy and well-adjusted, and ending the cycle of ab*se.

...But the SMP isn’t peaceful enough for that.

More from the writing perspective – the foundation of the server right now is violence. Endless, gruesome violence, it has become the number one way to deal with whatever is plaguing you. Talking has worked once (The Pet War (?) ending), but even then it was after extreme violence. And this will continue, because any other way of dealing with things has just become… irrelevant. Some people can only speak one language, and it’s not one that is healthy.

So not only do all of the people on the server need to be shouted at for being so violent, bullied into considering more peaceful options for things, but also the people who cannot or will not change their mind, because they have become delusional with their power and only believe in that singular language, must be eliminated.

It all comes back to Dream. It all comes back to more violence. The Curse cannot be broken.

But… It can be, if used properly, a way to at least eliminate most of the evil in the server.

You’d need a whole guidebook for that though.

And the problem wouldn’t be fixed.

That server reset’s gonna be a huge part of the lore!

<_><_><_>

And I know I may be coming off as aggressive here like “Oh stop making up headcanons that will never happen” but that’s not my intention because if I truly took that standpoint I would be incredibly hypocritical. I thought Techno was going to be this battle-hardened warrior, able to detach himself from everything in this world to focus on war – mans turns out to be the most secretly caring person in the server. I sometimes dismiss characters that turn out to be actually really powerful (Ranboo, for one. BBH and Puffy for three.), I’m wrong on a lot of things.

So honestly, if you have an AU for Ghostinnit or Ghostbo (Toast) or Dadschlatt or Dream redemption arc, or just irl AU, Harry Potter AU, Starinnit – fucking amazing. You play out your canon-divergent dreams you funky little writers/artists. I’ll stay over-analyzing stuff over here, don’t mind me! Your ideas are super cool, and you can bully me for not having any hcs and never thinking of an AU of my own. /gen

[noona-clock]

The Bartender - Part 2

Genre: Bartender!AU

Pairing: Jinhwan x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,036

For some reason, you thought Jay’s would look different now that it was dark outside. You’d only ever seen it in the daylight and when it was closed, so didn’t it make sense that it would seem like an entirely different place when it was almost nighttime and crowded with people?

But, alas, as soon as you walked through the door with Emma, you knew exactly where you were. You knew that you could close your eyes and be able to find your way back to the kitchen with no problem whatsoever. You knew exactly where the bathrooms were, where the back door leading out to the trash cans was, and where the three air conditioning vents were.

But tonight was not about work! You shook your head a little bit to rid yourself of health inspection thoughts, and then Emma looped her arm through yours to lead you over to the bar.

You tried to avoid looking anywhere near behind the bar for as long as you possibly could, wanting to prolong finding out if Jinhwan was actually working tonight -- and if he was, if he was working behind the bar. Most likely not because he was the owner. He should be back in some office on the other side of the kitchen working on finances or contacting suppliers or --

“Y/N!”

Ah, okay. No. There he was. Behind the bar.

And, after making eye contact with you, his face lit up. He had the biggest, sweetest, most genuine smile on his face. If you were being truthful with yourself, it made your heart flutter.

“Jinhwan,” you greeted shortly, nodding at him.

“You finally decided to visit!” His gaze shifted to Emma standing next to you, and he lifted his eyebrows. “And you brought a friend.”

As soon as you and Emma slid onto two empty bar stools, you gestured to your friend. “This is Emma. Emma, this is Jinhwan, the owner.”

“Oh, first name basis,” Emma smirked as Jinhwan reached out to shake her hand in greeting. “Interesting.”

“We’ve known each other for two years now, and this is the first time she’s come to my bar. Can you believe that?” Jinhwan asked her.

You pursed your lips (though you found you were trying not to smirk with amusement) and interjected. “Okay, that’s not an accurate representation.”

“Does she always talk like that?” Jinhwan inquired, leaning on the bar closer to Emma. “So... professional?”

Before you could retort that no, you did not always talk so professionally, Emma answered with, “Oh, yeah. All the time.”

“Wha --!” you stammered, nudging Emma’s arm with your elbow. “I do not!”

Emma completely ignored you, though, and continued on. “You should have heard her when she broke up with her college girlfriend. She came to me and said ‘We have ended our relationship.’”

You felt your cheeks start to burn, but instead of teasing you... Jinhwan turned to gaze at you fondly. His eyes were warm and inviting -- as was his smile -- and, if you can believe it, he reached out and tapped your nose.

“You are even cuter than I thought.”

Your brow furrowed immediately. “Please don’t touch me.”

Jinhwan straightened up and murmured an apology before grabbing a menu and setting it down in front of you and Emma. “First drink is on me,” he proclaimed.

“Ooh, thanks!” Emma grinned before eagerly perusing the menu.

“I’ll have a cider,” you told him without even looking; you just knew what you liked, so there was really no use pretending like you were deciding on something when you already knew what you wanted.

Jinhwan smirked and let out a breathless chuckle. “So, you can decide so quickly what you want to drink, but you still can’t decide if you’ll go out with me?”

You heard Emma gasp softly, and she said, “You’ve asked her out?!”

“Many times,” he shrugged. “She’s never said ‘yes,’ but she’s never said ‘no’ so I keep trying.”

“Because I’m working!” you pointed out defensively. “Even more than that, I’m inspecting your bar. I can hardly accept an offer of a date while I’m giving you a health inspection score.”

Jinhwan’s face lit up as he reached underneath the bar and produced a bottle of cider. “Accept? So, you will go out with me?”

You waited as he pried off the bottle cap and slid your cider over to you before answering him... but all you did in response to his question was raise your eyebrows and take a drink.

“If she’s not saying ‘no,’ then you’re good,” Emma translated as she closed the menu. “Old-fashioned, please.”

“Coming right up.”

When Jinhwan turned around to start making Emma’s drink, she nudged your arm with her elbow just as you had done to her a couple of minutes ago.

“Excuse me!” she hissed. “Give me the deets! What is going on?!”

“Nothing! I’m the health inspector for this place -- like I told you -- and he does nothing but flirt with me the whole time I’m here. That’s it!”

“That’s it? That’s not it -- do you like him?!”

“I’ve spoken with him, like, four times before tonight,” you pointed out with pursed lips.

Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “...So? You can totally like a guy without ever talking to him.”

Why did both Emma and Jinhwan have the same views on liking someone else? They seemed to be very cavalier with their feelings!

“Well, I prefer to actually know a person!”

“And that’s why you’ve been single for so long! If you see someone attractive, you just gotta go for it! Give it a shot! You never know what could happen!” Emma urged.

“If you’re just going to nag me about being single all night, please admit it now so I can just go home,” you requested with a very unamused tone.

An expression which was a mix of annoyance and shame flashed on Emma’s face, and she held up one hand in defeat. “All right, I’m done.”

“One Old-fashioned,” Jinhwan interrupted, setting down a glass in front of Emma. And then he looked up and gestured toward one corner of the bar. “There’s an empty booth back there if you guys want to sit.”

“Thank you very much,” you accepted, taking your bottle and standing up. You knew if you and Emma sat at the bar with Jinhwan in such close proximity, your friend would break her unspoken promise to stop badgering you about him.

But there was something you had completely forgotten.

When you had a certain amount of alcohol in your system, you had a tendency to get... we’ll just say emotional.

In your everyday life, you were a pretty deep thinker; after a drink or two, you let those thoughts come to the surface. Emma had become your friend-therapist quite often during your university days, and after about an hour at Jay’s, she was quickly becoming one again.

And what else were you going to talk about other than Jinhwan?

“Of course, I think he’s cute,” you acknowledged with a frown. “But how am I supposed to go out with him? He’s a client.”

“You put in a request to not be his health inspector anymore!” Emma replied, her brow furrowed deeply. “That’s how you’re supposed to go out with him! Y/N, come on! He said he’s been asking you out for years, and you’ve been interested this whole time?!”

“Yes!” you cried, though there was definitely a whine hidden in your voice, as well.

Emma let out a deep sigh before downing the rest of her drink. She shook her head and muttered. “You are hopeless.”

“I know,” you lamented, crossing your arms over the tabletop and resting your chin on top of your hands.

“Do you want another drink?”

“No, I’ve had enough.”

“True. Once you start whining, I know you’ve hit your limit.”

You shot Emma a pointed look as she started to scoot out from the booth.

“I have to pee, I’ll be right back.”

You simply sighed in response, letting your head loll over to the side so your cheek was pressed against your arm.

Not even five seconds after Emma left, someone came to your table to clear away the empty glass and bottle.

“Another round?” you heard Jinhwan’s familiar voice ask.

Immediately, you sat up straight, though your head started spinning from the sudden rush of blood.

“No,” you answered, briefly closing your eyes. “No, thanks.”

Much to your surprise, Jinhwan took your empty drinks without another word and headed back to the bar.

...Why were you disappointed that he hadn’t stayed? Or that he hadn’t tried to flirt with you or ask you out again?

Okay, you definitely knew you’d had enough to drink. When you actually admitted to yourself that you wanted Jinhwan to flirt with you, there was quite enough alcohol in your body.

So, it was probably a good thing Jinhwan hadn’t --

All of a sudden, he slid into the booth across from you, taking Emma’s recently vacated seat.

And you remembered just how attractive his face was.

“You okay?” he asked with a slightly wrinkled forehead. Wrinkled and adorable. “You seem down.”

“Down?” you repeated. “No, no -- I just -- drinking makes me more emotional. I’m not, like, drunk or anything, though. I’m just a lightweight.”

Jinhwan smirked, letting out a soft laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“And I’m not surprised that you’re not surprised.”

He laughed again, this time with a bit more vigor.

“No, I’m fine,” you assured him again, waving a hand through the air. “Thank you for checking on me, though. That was really nice of you. Really sweet.”

Jinhwan looked surprised by your words, but his expression barely registered in your mind as you reached out and put a hand over his, grasping his fingers in yours.

“Thank you, really. I don’t know what you see in me, but I’m really, really flattered that someone as good-looking and thoughtful as you would like me,” you said.

Jinhwan put his other hand over yours, squeezing it as a soft grin pulled at his lips. “...You think I’m good-looking?”

“Of course, I do,” you answered immediately. “I’ve just only ever seen you at work, and I absolutely cannot -- I could never make plans for a date while I’m on the job.”

His soft grin lifted up on one side to form a smirk you’d become all too familiar with over the last two years. “You’re not on the job now,” he stated.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest. “...No,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. “I’m not.”

He squeezed your hands again and then asked, “So... would you like to go out with me?”

“Yes,” you answered before you could second guess yourself and before you could remember that it was a bad idea to go on a date with a client.

Just as it had when you’d walked in earlier, Jinhwan’s face lit up. But then his gaze flitted upward above your head, and he suddenly began to scoot out from the booth, letting your hand slip from his.

“Oh, no, don’t let me interrupt,” Emma’s voice said from behind you.

“You’re good,” Jinhwan assured her. “We were just --”

Your eyes had been following Jinhwan as he’d slid out of the seat, stood next to the table, and gestured for Emma to take her place again. You could see his lips moving, but you had no idea what he was saying -- did it even matter what he was saying, though?

Because, for some reason, there was an urge building up inside of you as you stared at him. An urge that was quickly becoming so overwhelming, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back. An urge you knew was only coming to the surface because of the alcohol -- but that was neither here nor there. Not right now.

You had the unmistakable, unbearable, unavoidable urge to kiss Kim Jinhwan.

So, you stood up and did it. You reached up, took his face in your hands, and you desperately pressed your lips to his.

Part 3

[sageblogsthings]

Do you have any tips on how to write characters with scoliosis in a respectful/accurate way?

Thank you so much for asking! I smiled like an idiot when I saw this ask. :) Let me preface this by saying that scoliosis can vary a lot from person to person depending on the severity of curvature, location of curvature, treatment methods, etc. So I think that, as with anything really, getting a wide range of viewpoints and voices on the issue will make it easier to write! Honestly just scrolling through the scoliosis tag on tumblr will give you a good sense of what it’s like for some people too. With that being said, I’ll talk a bit about my experience, and how I wish that characters with scoliosis were portrayed. Just know that my answer is far from universal amongst those with scoliosis. Also, medical treatment where I live is pretty shitty so I may have some other undiagnosed stuff that I’m attributing to scoliosis who knows lol. And I’m still learning a lot about it myself! Ok, with that caveat out of the way, here we go!

I’m gonna put a tw here for discussions of scoliosis, chronic pain, anxiety, and depression

Also, for those who don’t wanna read about my experiences with scoliosis, if you scroll down there’s 13 tips on how to write characters with scoliosis (a lot of these tips apply to chronic pain in general tho). :)

To talk about my own experience a bit, I was first diagnosed with scoliosis when I was about 10 or so. When I was first diagnosed they told me it was minor and just to watch my posture. Scoliosis runs in my family but for most of my family members it’s pretty mild so I didn’t worry about it and went on my merry way. In hindsight, not the best way to deal with that but ah well.

Flash-forward to college. I had been having back pain and headaches for awhile, but I just figured it was studying for prolonged periods of time, carrying a heavy backpack frequently, and not watching my posture when I studied. I never connected it to scoliosis because I hadn’t had a check-up since that first diagnosis. Again, not the best idea but life happens.

I just finished my junior year in college, and I have had almost non-stop doctors appointments all year. It started after I had some sharp pain in my lower back, and got x-rays to see what was going on. Several doctors appointments and an ER visit later I find out that my scoliosis has gotten significantly worse, and that I have a fractured L5 as well. One thing I don’t see mentioned a lot with scoliosis is that it significantly weakens your spine (usually lower) because your weight distribution is thrown off. I had a job that involved some pretty heavy lifting, and voila fractured L5. 13/10 would not recommend btw.

My curvature (I can’t get consistent answers from doctors) is somewhere in the 20′s in my lumbar region and in the upper 20′s/lower 30′s in my thoracic region. At least with the neurosurgeons I’ve spoken to, they don’t consider you a candidate for surgery until the upper thirties or forties, unless you have significant neurophysiological symptoms. Treatment options vary widely depending on where you live, what you can afford, and what your doctor will give you a referral for, but most doctors will recommend physical therapy off the bat. To my knowledge, most doctors do not recommend bracing anymore, though I think in children that might be different (not so sure on that). So currently, I am waiting on an appointment with a pain management specialist and will go from there. 

Even though the curvature in my spine is relatively minor, I still experience significant symptoms. Some of these symptoms include sciatica, pinched nerves in my arms, legs, and back, muscle spasms in my upper back and neck, swelling of my hands and feet, and numbness or pain in my hands and wrists. Also, because my spine curves more in the upper portion of my back, my left lung cannot expand as much as my right lung. This isn’t always a problem, but I get shortness of breath pretty easily, and any respiratory infections make it super hard to breathe properly (pneumonia sucks a butt). There’s also the obvious bit of scoliosis where I stand a little crooked. Another thing I think that not a lot of people know is that how “lopsided” you are can vary from day to day. This doesn’t mean that the curvature is changing day-to-day, but the muscles may be more relaxed or tightened on some days.

So that’s my experience pretty much (bless you if you read all that!). But, to show an example on the opposite end of the spectrum, my friend had (I think) a 30 degree curvature in the thoracic region and 50 degree curvature in the lumbar. He had immediate corrective surgery (I’m not sure exactly what kind) and now aside from the scar on his back and that he looks like a table when he bends over (his words lol i’m not being mean) you would never know. And even weirder, he had no significant symptoms before his surgery aside from occasional sciatica. So your symptoms don’t necessarily depend on the degree of curvature, where the curve is located has a lot to do with it. Typically, more curvature in the upper spine is more painful but that’s by no means always the case.

Ok, so how in the heck does this all apply to writing characters? I promise it does, I’m not just rambling (well, maybe haha).

13 Things to Consider When Writing Characters With Scoliosis:

Their symptoms may vary from day to day. This may mean that some days they can do activities like running or baseball, and other days they can barely type or walk without pain.

They may have no, mild, or severe symptoms, depending on the location and severity of curvature, and other factors.

What is medical care like where they live? Dealing with doctors, neurosurgeons, physical therapists, etc. is just a part of having scoliosis, and very often an incredibly draining aspect. This is especially true if you have anxiety or other factors that make going to the doctor even more unpleasant.

Were they misinformed about scoliosis? Unless you go to someone who specializes in scoliosis treatment, you’re probably gonna get inaccurate information about something. For example, I was told constantly as a kid to watch my posture. Yes, this can have an impact, but more and more research is showing that scoliosis in many cases is influenced more by hormones (especially in teenage years) than posture. There’s also more egregious examples of this, such as a neurosurgery PA who recently told me not to ever use CBD to alleviate pain because it’s a “gateway drug.” This is literally impossible. So for writing, this could translate into frustration or even anger for your character. But it could also make for some funny situations later! I wrote down everything that crazy PA told me and it still makes me laugh from time to time.

Don’t give them a back-breaking job. It will literally break their back lol. I’m not saying they can’t be active, but if someone is impacted by scoliosis on a daily basis they probably aren’t working as a professional wrestler. Or maybe they are, and your story is trying to explain how that works lol

What do they do to manage the pain (if they have it)? For me, the symptoms are typically inflammatory in nature so things like ice, heat, turmeric tea, and anti-inflammatory medications help relieve the symptoms. This is one of those things where getting other viewpoints is good though too!

Is their spine visibly crooked? If so, are they self-conscious about it? This varies a loooot, and may even vary with symptoms. For example, maybe some days when the pain isn’t bad they wear a cute dress that shows their shoulder-blades. But then when the pain is bad, they just want to look like a hobo. I say this from experience lol.

Have people treated them differently because of it (positively or negatively)? Some people may experience bullying if their scoliosis is more visible, especially as a child. They may also be treated differently by adults, who are trying to look out for them, but nevertheless it still makes them stand out from other kids.

Do they make jokes about it? For example, I can be found frequently saying “my spine said yeet!” or “straight spine? idk her” or my personal favorite “my spine is about as straight as I am.” Scoliosis sucks, but living with it you learn to find humor in it too.

Are they going to get surgery for it? I can’t speak on this part since I haven’t had surgery, but I would imagine that there is a psychological aspect to this that you would want to mention for your character, as well as any logistical aspects like finances, dealing with trash insurance companies, etc.

How does scoliosis impact their mental health? This is one of my pet peeves, and it’s entirely founded in a lack of resources and education, so I’m not aiming this at anyone specifically. But scoliosis does impact your mental health, especially if you have pre-existing conditions like anxiety or depression already. It can be incredibly depressing to want to do something as simple as going for a walk, but you’re in too much pain. It can also really impact anxiety. For example, when I found out about my curvature change in college I had one of the biggest anxiety attacks I’ve ever had. There is also the added issue of not being able to breathe properly at times, which can make a panic/anxiety attack much worse (in intensity or duration). Of course, mental health issues can also be exacerbated by the environment you’re in, so that is definitely something to consider for your character.

What was their diagnosis like? What factors impacted their ability to get a diagnosis? Lack of adequate medical care or having crappy insurance is a huge problem, and it makes it really hard or even impossible for some people to get a diagnosis. And for most neurosurgeons or specialized treatment facilities you have to have that diagnosis and referral for them to be able to do anything. There may also be aspects of your character’s home life that prevents them from getting a diagnosis. Do their parents think they’re faking it, or that they just need to sit up straight? Is your character trans, and/or wears baggy clothing? I’ve heard several stories of undiagnosed cases because of this, so it’s something to consider.

Ok, I think this is the last thing (huge huge thank you to anyone still reading this!!). But please, if you’re writing a character with scoliosis, or any chronic issue/disability for that matter, avoid the trope of you’re still beautiful to me/you’re beautiful anyways/I don’t see your disability. Some people might not get what I’m saying here, so let me explain a little. If you have a character with significant scoliosis, to the point it impacts their daily life, and they meet another character (potential friend, love interest, whatever) and this new person grows to love them in spite of their scoliosis/disability, that is a huge red flag. It implies that they are seeing them through a lens of not having the disability, and they love that version of your character. But that is not your character in reality, because your character in reality has a very real disability. In general, just try to avoid the “I don’t see __,” in writing and real life. That could be applied to a disability, or the character’s race, sexuality, etc. In all cases, it dismisses a fundamental part of who that character is, and what experiences have shaped them into who they are. If your character has scoliosis and it has shaped who they are, it is important for other characters to recognize that as well, otherwise they aren’t really seeing that character in their “full glory,” if that makes sense. I’m rambling a bit at this point and I’m sure there’s other posts that make this point better than I have, but the takeaway is just please don’t write scoliosis as “you’re beautiful anyways.” Scoliosis or no scoliosis, it’s just “you’re beautiful.” Full stop. But part of how your character may come to recognize that beauty within themselves, or how others see it within them, may be influenced by their experiences with scoliosis.

Phew, I did not expect that to get so long but it’s a topic I’m passionate about and I haven’t seen information on scoliosis geared towards writers before, so hopefully this will help! Again, a lot of this is based on my own experiences so please do not take any of this as a universal guide to scoliosis, it definitely isn’t. And if I’ve said anything that people disagree with (or even agree with!) or have questions about, I am always open to polite discourse and discussion. :)

I hope that this answered your question some, and if not feel free to let me know! Thank you so much for asking this!

[trassellynn]

THE HAUNTING OF KREE MANOR (Chapter 4)

Fandom: Six of Crows  Rating: Mature Warnings: Horror, Blood and canon typical violence, Haunted House!AU Ao3 link here. Chapter undercut.

CHAPTER 4

WYLAN. The poltergeist (Part 1) I hadn't ever been in that house. And yet, I felt like I already knew it well, when we arrived. It wasn't because of the map I had studied those days: somehow, I remembered in details the  description Uncle Karl gave of it, that single time we met. I didn't know how it was possible, since I was only a child, at that time. I didn't even remember well my uncle's face, but every single words he told me about the house was perfectly stuck in my mind. When I found myself in front of that immense manor, I instinctively smiled. “Hi,” I thought. “We finally meet, then. Face to face.” A sudden, weird feeling filled my chest. I don't know how but... I felt... I felt like the house didn't greet me back. In the same moment, Trassel started growling and a tiny voice in my head told me it didn't matter I was a Van Eck, it didn't matter my name was on the property contract. I wasn't welcome there. “You told us almost every room has a story...” Matthias had just taken Aenya's cradle in his and Nina's room, with little to no effort. He placed it next to the huge bed and fixed the little sheet and pillow. “Yes, that's what my uncle told me” I replied, holding the little girl in my arms and checking if the room was clean and tidy. People who worked for my uncle left quite quickly after his death, but they had done a good job. After days, there was almost no dust on the floor and furnitures. Matthias straightened his back, smiling. He wore the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, baring his huge forearms. “I wonder if there's a story also for this one” he said. “Oh, yes, there is!” I answered, approaching him, as Aenya started playing with my bow tie, undoing it. “It was the room of a Khaelish lady, over a century ago. She almost never went out of it. I don't know if she was willing to stay inside or if her family kept her locked.” “The second option would be atrocious” the Fjerdan commented, approaching us. Seeing him, Aenya's mouth curved in a wide smile and she immediately stretched her little arms towards him, joyfully shrieking. “Yes, love!” Matthias replied with a squeaky voice, as I let him take the baby girl in his arms. “Come to papa, love!” His blue eyes were filled with adoration, as she started touching his beard, laughing. “I'll go to check the others' rooms” I smiled, kissing Aenya's plump cheek, before walking out of the bedroom. I almost reached the staircase, when a sudden, loud thud made me gasp. I turned around: one of the paintings on the wall had just fallen. “Wylan?” Matthias's giant figure appeared in the aisle: “Is everything okay?” “Yes,” I answered, approaching the fallen painting and carefully kneeling. “This painting has fallen. It made me loose years of life...” “Be careful,” the giant said, as Aenya started to playfully bite his jaw. “Are there many splinters?” I checked the glass that protected the accurate representation of the manor. “Actually... no. Not even a scratch.” I placed the painting at its place, staring at it for a while. The glass had to be extremely resistant, to survive to such a fall. “Well... that's good,” I commented. “We won't risk to get hurt.” “Definitely.” the Fjerdan replied, kissing his daughter's forehead. I felt his concern: those days, Aenya had learnt to crawl on the floor. If the glass had broken, she would have risked to injury herself far worse than all of us. I gave her and Matthias a smile, then I reached the staircase again. Suddenly, when I placed my hand on the handrail, I felt a thrill running down my back. But it was only for a moment. I couldn't sleep, that night. The bed was quite cosy, the room was large and elegant and there wasn't any noise that could bother my sleep, from the outside And yet, I laid awake, on my side, with my eyes open and Jesper's arm around my waist. I couldn't help but stare at the closed door, as I was expecting to see it opening by moments. Suddenly, some weird, faint but clear noises started to tickle my ears. I gasped, clenching Jesper's wrist and shaking it. “Jes...” I whispered. “Jes... do you hear this?” My boyfriend grumbled, slowly moving his legs: “Mmh... what?” “These... noises...” I replied, anxiety raising into my chest. “Don't you hear them too? What can they be?” “Nina and Matthias, probably.” “No, Jes... it's not that kind of noises... it's more like... steps... furnitures dragged on the floor... voices...” Before I could finish my sentence, the portrait next to the door, that represented uncle Karl during his youth, fell, in the same way of the painting outside of Nina and Matthias' bedroom. Jes winced, as I swore behind my teeth. “What the...” he murmured. “Stupid portrait...” “It happened this morning too, shortly after we arrived,” I explained. “There's... there's something weird in this house...” “Well, it's quite old, I would be surprise it hadn't any problem... do you want me to put the portrait back at its place?” “No, no... I'll do it.” Maybe I had just been paranoic. Maybe my constant fear to be unworthy of my family's name made me imagine everything, even that a house was telling me I was unwelcome. I approached the fallen portrait, feeling incredibly naive and stupid. “I'm probably a bit nervous,” I commented, hanging the picture on the wall. As I expected, the glass was perfectly intact: uncle Karl or the ones who lived there before him had obviously found a very good artisan. I stared at uncle Karl's portrait for a while: I didn't remember him well, since the only time I saw him I was only a child, but I had a memory of a tall, skinny man, whose red hair were turning grey. I couldn't help but notice his younger self looked a lot like me: his big, blue eyes, his soft auburn locks, the freckles on his nose... Yes... we looked much alike... “Wy?” A hand on my shoulder made me wince, like I had just woken up from a long, deep dream. “J-Jes?” I murmured. “You scared me...” “Oh, you have no idea how much you scared me, merchling,” he replied. “I did... what?” Jesper frowned: “I fell asleep again, while you were fixing the portrait. When I woke up, you were still standing in front of it.” I blinked confusedly: “I... I have just put it at his place...” “No, Wy. It was about one o'clock when you went out of the bed. You have been standing there for an hour...” I looked at the round clock on the wall: five minutes past two. I froze: “How... how is it possible? I thought...” Did I feel asleep in front of the portrait, managing somehow to stand on my feet? “I cannot understand...” I murmured. Jesper placed the inners side of his wrist on my forehead, checking my temperature: “You're so pale... do you feel sick?” “No, no... I'm just... confused...” I shrugged. “Maybe I'm just a bit stressed. I feel the project on this house as a huge responsibility...” “We're here to help you,” my boyfriend smiled, kissing the tip of my nose. “Come back to bed, merchling. You need to rest, we've got a lot of things to do, this weeks.” I didn't feel well rested at all, the next morning. Jes had to call me twice to wake me up and, when we went to the kitchen, almost all our friends were already there, except for Inej and Nina. “Good morning!” Kuwei smiled. He and Inga were in front of the stove, both wearing an apron. A delicious smell of coffee, tea and pancakes was filling the room. “Tea or coffee?” the little girl asked. I let myself fall on a chair. In front of me, Matthias gave me a little smile: he was feeding Aenya, who was sat on his lap, with some fruit yogurt. “Coffee,” I murmured, rubbing my hands on my face. “Double coffee, maybe.” “You've got horrible eyebags, Wylan,” Kaz said, giving me a quick glance over the newspaper he was reading. “Did you stay awake, last night?” “I... I had a strange night... I heard...” “Noises?” Matthias asked, raising his blue eyes on me. He stopped the hand that was holding the teaspoon with yogurt in mid air and Aenya immediately grabbed his wrist, protesting with a little shriek. He smiled, approaching the little spoon to her mouth. “Sorry, love... what were you saying, Wylan?” “I heard noises. Do you hear them too?” The Fjerdan nodded: “I woke up more than once because of weird noises. I also tried to check where they come from, but I found nothing.” “Inej saw someone in her bedroom, tonight” Kaz added, making all of us wince. “But we found no one.” “This house is quite old,” Kuwei suggested, placing a plate full of pancakes on the table. “It's not so unusual to old houses to make weird noises, I heard some too, last night. Not to mention the design here is somewhat... spooky. I think it's easier to let scary thoughts influence us.” “You're probably right” I sighed, thanking Inga with a smile when she took me a large cup of coffee. I frowned a bit seeing she was looking at someone behind my back, a little smirk on her lips. “Are you okay, Inga?” I asked, turning around. She widened her smile: “Oh... oh, yes.” She seemed to be about to add something, when Inej and Nina entered the kitchen, with Trass by their side. “Good morning, ladies!” Jes greeted them. “How are you?” “Kaz told us you didn't sleep well too, Inej,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. The young woman shrugged, taking place between Kaz and Jes: “I... I think I was just tired.” She actually looked much more nervous than she wanted to show, but I decided not to force her to share her thoughts. Once we finished our breakfast, I went back to my and Jes' bedroom, to pick my painting set. That morning I had to repaint the walls of the bathrooms at the first two floors and I was quite excited, but I soon realized there was something wrong. Before going downstairs to have breakfast, I had left the painting set on the bedroom but, once I entered the room, it wasn't there any more. “What the...” I murmured, starting to frantically looking around. “Jes! I called. “Jes, do you...” I got no answer, but I didn't need it: my painting set box was on the top of the large wardrobe that faced our bed. I frowned: how did it end up over there? Maybe Jes just played me a prank... “That's so funny...” I commented, grabbing a chair and placing it next to the wardrobe. I mounted on the chair, stretching my arms to grab the box, but I soon realized I also had to raise on my toes. I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable, in a precarious balance. And then... that sensation again, the sensation there was something behind my back. Something that was slowly approaching me. I froze, completely unable to turn around. My limbs stilled, I had the impression to be trapped into a block of ice. I could barely breathe. Light steps behind me. Rustles. My uncle's portrait fell again. And then, something cold, two cold, scrawny hands, grabbed my bare ankles, making me scream. I lost my balance and fell backwards, stiffening my muscles, expecting the painful impact with the ground. But instead, I landed into familiar arms, hitting my back against someone's chest. “Merchling!” I turned my head, so I could look into Jes' eyes. My whole body was trembling. “J-Jes...” I whispered. “There... there was...” “What, in the good name of Aunt Eva, were you doing?” “I...” I looked around, expecting to see my mysterious attacker, but there was no one in the room, except for us. And, what was even weirder, Uncle Karl's portrait was still on the wall. Was it possible Ihad  imagined everything? “I needed my painting set. Did you put it over there?” Jesper frowned, his eyes going from me, to the box on the wardrobe: “No, I didn't. Wait, I'll take it down for you. Are you okay?” I took a deep breath, nodding: “Yes, I'm fine.” The double coffee effect hadn't probably started working yet. I told myself that frightful experience had to be a consequences of the previous night. But there was something I still couldn't explain: who put my painting set on the top of the wardrobe? My suspects grew deeper in my mind the following days. And it wasn't because of the objects that kept on disappearing and reappearing in wrong places:  all my friends had started to act weirdly, they looked nervous, restless, the moved around the house like they expected to be attacked by moments. Jes was not excluded. From the second night, I noticed there was something different in his glance, I could read a pinch of anxiety in his greenish-grey eyes, especially when he found himself in front of a mirror. It was about midnight when I laid on the bed, physically exhausted but, for some reasons, not sleepy as I expected. “Are you okay, Jes?” My boyfriend, who was sitting on the mattress, his back rested against the headboard of the bed, nodded in a distract manned, his eyes fixed ahead. He didn't seem to be okay at all. I propped up on my left elbow, giving him a worried glance: “Are you sure?” Jesper shook his head, blinking: “Yes, yes, I was just thinking...” “Thinking of...?” He gave a quick nod at the mirror that had been fixed next to the wardrobe, on the left. From my perspective I could see my bedside table reflected on its surface. “Thinking of... the mirror?” “I find it creepy...” “Creepy?” I frowned waiting for an answer, but Jes shrugged, laying down: “Just an impression. Better trying to sleep, we've got so much things to do these days. Goodnight, merchling.” “Goodnight...” It wasn't typical of Jes, being so elusive, there was clearly something more about his impressions on the “creepiness” of the mirror. But, at the moment, I didn't try to investigate, Maybe I didn't want to do it because... because I was afraid. Afraid of being forced to admit that his impressions were so much similar to my impressions. And if we both felt there was something weird, something bad in that house... maybe... maybe we were right. Maybe it wasn't just an impression. Those thoughts were scary, too scary. That's why I made a terrible mistake, deciding to suppress them. I managed to sleep for about four hours, then, out of nothing, I woke up, feeling terribly thirsty. I took a look at the bedside table, swearing behind my teeth when I noticed I forgot to bring a bottle of water. Snorting, I slowly got up, rubbing my eyes and paying attention not to wake Jes, then, barefoot, I walked out of the room, going downstairs to the kitchen. The unnatural silence that surrounded me made several thrills run down my back, but I kept on repeating myself to not get impressed. It was just a house. Just a house. I reached the kitchen with no troubles and, for a while, I almost felt relieved, so relieved I didn't even feel the necessity to turn the light on. I took a small bottle of water out of the fridge and I opened it, taking a few sips. It was in that moment I heard a noise behind me. My fingers clenched the bottle so hard my knuckles almost went white. I slowly turned around. There was no one in the room... no one I could see. But I felt that presence... I felt it clearly. “Who is it?” I asked, my voice trembling. I got no answer for a while. Then, the table started to move. At its own will. I widened my eyes, almost forgetting to breathe. Yes, the table was moving. It made little movements, little sprints, hitting some of the chairs around it. Little sprints towards me. At the same moment, the clock hands started to spin, faster and faster, and the sink trembled, spitting a disgusting flush of dark water. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out of it. The table moved faster, reaching me, hitting me on the stomach and taking my breath away. I lost the grip on the bottle, that fell to the floor, crashing, and, soon after, my knees were on the glass chippings. Tears ran down my cheek, my arms were wrapped around my aching stomach and the skin of my legs was filled with small, painful injuries. Before I could do anything, I felt a hand grabbing my hair, fiercely tugging them. It was in that moment I found the strength to scream. The light turned on and somehow... somehow I realized I was still standing on my feet, with the intact bottle in my hand. “Hey!” Kuwei entered the kitchen, giving me a little smile and approaching the fridge: “Are you hungry too?” I blinked confusedly, looking around: the table and the chairs were at their place and the clock hands diligently indicated it was seven minutes past four in the morning. No traces of blood on my pants, no stomach pains... “Wylan?” I shook my head, awakening from my thoughts: “I... I just went to take a sip... I should keep a bottle on the bedside table, at night...” “Yeah, the weather is so hot,” my friend commented, picking a small strawberry pastry. A doubt started to torment my mind. “Kuwei... didn't you hear anything weird, tonight?” The Inferni shook his head, swallowing the first bite of his pastry: “No, why?” How was it possible? Didn't he hear the table moving? Didn't he hear me scream? I looked at the bottle in my hand. There was no explanation on what I lived just a few moments before. “Nothing. It doesn't matter. Goodnight, Kuwei.” I went back to my bedroom, trying to repeat myself again that I had imagined everything, that my mind had played me a cruel trick, that it was just an impression. But, deep in my soul, I had already started to doubt about those words.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Christopher and Gabriel Lightwood

Hey guys! Someone requested I do Christopher and Gabriel, so here it is. I apologize in advance for this length, I didn’t set out for it to be this long... I guess that’s all. Also, I haven’t finished gotten my copy of Chog yet, so it might not be so accurate. Up next: Anna and Christopher (I’m glad you guys love the Lightwood Herondales and much as I do) -Ana

Benedict Lightwood was staring at Gabriel. His eyebrows were furrowed and although Gabriel was taller than he was, Benedict seemed to loom over him. His figure was frightening.

“You have disappointed me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel felt himself shrink into nothingness, meanwhile his father grew and grew and morphed into a worm. Cecily came with her seraph blade. She exchanged blow after blow with Benedict until she lost her footing, and Benedict ripped her into shreds before Gabriel’s eyes. He cried out in pain, for he had lost his strong and beautiful wife. Anna had stepped up, trying to save Cecily, only to have Benedict swat his tail and throw her against a tree, where her lifeless body slumped in the grass. Alex called out to his father, his screaming drowned out by Benedict’s attack. Gabriel was powerless to stop any of it.

“Father, are you alright?” His son’s lavender eyes looked down on him.

“Kit.” He breathed.

Before Kit could answer, a blade pierced his chest, and he fell down to his knees, gasping for air.

Gabriel woke in a cold sweat. He blinked his eyes over and over, trying to stop the gruesome images from replaying in his mind. He looked at Cecily, who had edged closer to him. Cecily was a light sleeper, and he must have woken her up during his nightmare. He planted a kiss on her head and sat up.

“Where are you off to?” Cecily said, her words slurred from sleep.

Gabriel leaned down and planted little kisses on her face.

“I will be right back.” He whispered

“You better.”

Gabriel chuckled and softly kissed Cecy one more time before getting up.

The cold floor sent a shock through him. He walked down the hallways of the London house. Although he knew it was superstitious on his part, he felt an obligation to check on his children, and make sure nothing had happened to them. The first room was Alexander’s. They had made sure to keep him in close proximity, so if he had a nightmare, the trip to their room would not be so far. However, Alex rarely suffered from nightmares. Ironically, it was Gabriel and occasionally Cecily who had the most trouble when it came to sleep. Gabriel had assumed that over the years, the pain and horrors of the past would subside, but that never happened.

He looked into Anna’s room and found his daughter sound asleep. He smiled to himself. How could he have been blessed with such wonderful children? Anna was everything Gabriel had not been in the past. Anna would not have stayed with Benedict as Gabriel had, even after Gideon had begged him to come to the London institute. Anna would not have been afraid as he was.

Gabriel walked down the hall to Kit’s room. The door was closed, but light danced under it. He opened the door to find Kit wide awake, writing something down with crazed determination. Cecily had always said that that expression always reminded her of Gabriel.

The thought of Cecily reminded him of a conversation he had had with her a fortnight ago:

“I love Christopher to death.”

“But?”

“But I wish I could understand him better. I want to understand how he sees the world, how he picks apart and analyzes situations.”

“That seems quite difficult.”

“It is. Especially considering how intelligent he is.”

“That’s our Kit.” Said Cecily with immense pride, “I fear he is more intelligent than I could ever hope to be.”

Gabriel smiled. There was a time when Christopher’s habits of experimenting had frustrated them both. More than anything, they scared them. Very time Gabriel would catch his son with an open flame, or strong chemicals, he couldn’t seem to breathe properly. It took him a while to accept that his little boy, who would throw his arms up to be picked up and rest his small head on Gabriel’s shoulder, was grown. He still remembers when Kit was newly born, and his Uncle Will offered his finger for him to hold. Kit just stared at it in wonder, as though not sure what to do with it.

“He’s going to change the world, this one.” Charlotte had said.

“What makes you say that.” Cecily laughed

“Instead of simply grabbing it, he’s thinking of the best way to approach the situation. That differs him from most children, but definitely not in a bad way.”

...

“You do know, Mr. Lightwood,” the Inquisitor had told Gabriel once, “Basilias is a fine institution for, erm, special Shadowhunters.”

“I am aware.” said Gabriel, not knowing what the Inquisitor was implying he do with this information.

“An you do know, of course, that taking your son there does not make you or Mrs. Lightwood bad parents. The opposite really, you would be doing your son a favor.”

Gabriel widened his eyes in disbelief.

“It will provide you and your wife some much deserved peace.”

Cecily stopped the conversation she was having with the inquisitor’s wife. Gabriel gave the inquisitor a hard stare before saying, loud enough for the entire room to hear:

“My son is not a burden to myself or my family, nor do Mrs. Lightwood and I need “a break” from him. I am horrified you would think my wife and I would be so quick to rid ourselves of him.”

There were many more things he would like to tell the Inquisitor, but he had to stop himself for the sake of his family. To have an enemy with that much power could ruin their lives, despite being close to the Consul herself. Instead, Gabriel turned away from him, grabbed his coat and let him out. He had only walked three step into the snowy pathway before the door opened again and Cecily came rushing out to catch up with him. Every two steps Cecily took was equivalent to one of Gabriel’s, and she tripped on her feet. Gabriel caught her before she could fall on the ground. She looked up at him, smiling.

“The inquisitor’s expression when you left was priceless. He turned as red as a tomato!”

Gabriel looked at her.

Cecy’s smile faded. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I just cannot believe the nerve of him.”

Cecily sighed and held her gloved hand to his face. Her impossibly dark blue eyes looked into his own.

“The world is going to be cruel to our Kit and it will be our job as his parents to support and protect him until he is able to protect himself.”

“I just cannot comprehend why they think him crazed.”

“Because Shadowhunters are afraid of anyone that is different. That is why they shun Tessa and why the academy tried to get rid of Jamie. That’s why they though Henry foolish.”

That was the day that Gabriel realized that it was not open flames he had to protect his son from, but his own kind.

Gabriel opened Kit’s door just a crack and found his son bent over, writing something with intensity. Gabriel crossed the room and stood beside Kit. Then, he thought about how terrifying it must be to be writing something and not know your father is beside you. Benedict had done that so many times, it started to feel like he would do it in purpose, just to make sure Gabriel was still afraid of him. Gabriel quietly took some steps back, and walked back to his side, this time with more noise.

“Kit?”

Christopher looked up at Gabriel, half of his right eye was the color of lavender in the candlelight while left eye a very dark shade of blue.

Christopher was born with his eyes open, observing the world for the day he was born. Gabriel and Cecily were sure the magnificent color would change over time; lighten to match the color of Cecily and Will’s. Sophie had argued otherwise, but everybody else seemed to agree that the color would fade overtime. Gabriel remembered holding Kit and looking down at his son and feeling a rush of emotion, similar to when he held Anna for the first time. He thought about his father.

“I will protect you with my all heart,” he’d said “and I will never abandon you the way my father hurt me.”

Kit looked at his father with fascination as Gabriel began to cry. Gabriel supported his newly born son’s head, his fingers tangling in his small, brown curls, and kissed his forehead.

“Kit, why are you awake?”

“I am writing down an idea I had.”

“Can it not wait for tomorrow?”

Kit looked at him, completely baffled. Then he whispered:

“You can tell your thoughts to come back tomorrow?” His eyes danced. “Could you teach me how?”

“Oh, no Kit, I just meant writing this down tomorrow rather then at three in the morning.”

Christopher ran a hand through his hair.

“Blimey, is it already three in the morning?”

Gabriel smiled. “Yes, and that means it is time to go to bed.”

“Okay.”

“And sleep.”

Kit was silent.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“It might take a while for me to fall asleep. I am not very good at it.”

“Neither am I, Kit.”

Christopher looked at him. “Do you suppose I inherited an allele for insomnia from you?”

Gabriel blinked, not knowing what his son just asked him.

“I don’t know.”

Christopher looked a little disappointed.

“Do not worry, Papa, I shall find out.” He set off to work.

“Tomorrow, Kit.” Gabriel said as he led his son to his bed. “Promise me you will wait until tomorrow.”

“I promise.”

Gabriel smiled. “Alright then.”

“Papa?”

Gabriel turned around.

“I wish you fast sleep.”

“And I to you Kit.” Gabriel blew out the candle, and when back to bed.

“Took you long enough.” Cecily whispered.

Gabriel planted a kiss on her head and drew her into his arms and then slept sweet dreams of his family, together and happy.